


the skywalker actually rises in this one

by enbymegumi



Series: the skywalker actually rises in this one: the complete collection [1]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben Solo Lives, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, But We Love Her For It, Canon Compliant, Dark Rey (Star Wars), Don't worry, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Everyone Is Alive, Exegol not Exogol, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Gingerpilot, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, IM SHOOK, Inspired by Love Simon, It's somewhere in between, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Redeemed Ben Solo, Rey (Star Wars) is a Mess, Rey Needs A Hug, Romance, Slow Burn, Soft Ben Solo, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Fix-It, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers, also it's, ben solo pilots the falcon, but its not, for fucking SURE, i know the title makes it seem like it is, this is literally a rewrite of the entire movie, this is not i repeat NOT a crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 121,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21955861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbymegumi/pseuds/enbymegumi
Summary: Kylo does not lower his saber. “What do you want?”The Emperor pauses. For a second he seems to be relishing the big reveal, as if he knows it will do some extent of damage to Kylo.“Bring me the girl.”That’s it. He should kill him. He should run him through with his blade, cut the lifelines and wires, do something, anything to end this twisted man’s life. But the Force holds him back. And for the first time, he doesn’t know which side of it does. So he stills his hand and listens.“I can turn her to the dark side, like you have always wanted, but failed to do. Then you can rule the galaxy as Emperor and Empress. I will succeed, for I know she has done unspeakable things. Just as you have.”“What has she done?” he asks in a voice barely louder than a whisper, yet amplified over the screams of lightning.Palpatine smiles, and shows him.---A TROS complete rewrite in which the author salvages as much of this mess as she can while maintaining the general structure of the film. Which also means author adds like 2 hours to the film because things are different in prose form. Also, gays, come get y'alls juice
Relationships: Ben Solo & Han Solo, Chewbacca & Ben Solo, Finn & Armitage Hux, Finn & Jannah (Star Wars), Finn & Rose Tico, Jannah/Rose Tico, Kylo Ren/Rey, Lando Calrissian & Ben Solo, Leia Organa & Ben Solo, Poe Dameron & Finn & Rey, Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: the skywalker actually rises in this one: the complete collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615147
Comments: 992
Kudos: 1634
Collections: TROS Reylo Fix-it Fics, The Rise of Skywalker: Fix-It Fic Edition





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hello i'll keep this short and brief because im gonna put all my sentimental shit in the end notes but uh,,,
> 
> if you're new to my fic, welcome to your first chapter of the journey ahead!  
> if you've been following the story for a while now, this will be the last chapter you will read of this story for the near future.
> 
> either way, i hope you'll enjoy it!!

They say the planet Mustafar is healing.

They say the birthplace and former sanctum of the Sith Lord Darth Vader has formed a lava crust around itself, the molten hatred and bitter history of the place buried under a ground that has been softening into soil for almost a hundred years now. The heart of the planet, stolen away a long time ago, seems to be miraculously beating again. Small and faint, but beating nonetheless.

They say trees have begun to grow, wildlife has begun to flourish. What was once a volcanic planet, the centre of coal trade, has now become too stagnant for any sort of danger or successful trade business.

They say it’s more suitable living grounds for a farmer than a Sith Lord. It could probably give Sorgan a run for its peaceful reputation.

Whispers of that peace, floating out from the Outer Rim and through the void of space, intercepts every world it can reach. People across the galaxy would probably have rushed to recolonise it.

But the rumours drift alongside another, much more sinister source, from the lost world of Exegol. One that had not been heard for the past generation. One that threatens the existence of all, reaching out with tendrils of war, wrapping itself around two specific things.

The first, of course, is Mustafar.

(After all, Emperor Palpatine was known to make frequent visits to his apprentice’s lair. No one knows why, to this day, but hiding a Sith Wayfinder in its flaming depths is as good a guess as any.)

The second is Supreme Leader Kylo Ren.

_ Grandson,  _ the darkness whispers gleefully in his ear, as his shuttle sets itself on the ashen soil of Mustafar. Two victims of Vader’s legacy, meeting for the first time.

_ Grandson, grandson, grandson. _

“Multiple hostiles approaching, sir.” General Hux’s monotonous voice snaps him out of his daze. “Shall we send the division ahead?”

“No,” Kylo sweeps his cloak onto his shoulders and fastens it. “I’ll lead the charge. Keep the door covered,” He gives Hux a mistrustful glare. “And don’t follow me.”

The general glares right back. “Duly noted, Supreme Leader.”

The ramp is lowered. Kylo strides out, ignites his saber, and gets to work.

* * *

The hostiles turn out to be some sort of Sith acolyte army. Kylo’s division of troopers outnumber them easily, but it’s still a concerningly large rank. He takes out his frustration at himself for letting a whole group of Vader loyalists run around the galaxy in  _ his  _ rule, slaughtering each one of them in his path with brutal efficiency.

The acolytes fight well. Surprisingly well. But it’s only when one of them manages to plant him face-first in the dirt with nothing but a staff, when he realises they’re using ancient Sith combat forms.

It happens more than once. Kylo’s face is caked with a combination of blood and dirt and sweat by the time he’s finishing the job.

He skids backwards, right through a puddle of fire. He rams his saber through the chest of one acolyte. Dismembers the next. Then he throws his head back to look for more.

There’s nothing but bodies left. Littered on the ground, both stormtroopers and acolytes alike, flames in the trees and crimson smoke in the air.

_ Grandson,  _ the darkness whispers.  _ Grandson, grandson. _

Kylo turns. To the box at the end of the column of trees. The box that had incited so much death, no doubt just like the Emperor it leads to. Kylo brushes his gloved fingers against the symbol, carved into the stone crate before him, before pushing the lid off to reveal its contents. 

A single pyramid, framed green transparisteel that looks like a type of emerald water frozen into a navigational device. At its very centre, amidst the strange carvings and runes, shimmers a small red light that follows his direction no matter which way he turns.

Kylo grips the Wayfinder in his hand. It thrums with an alluring dark energy, seemingly reaching out into his mind…

Out of sheer practice and habit, he slams down a protective barrier around his thoughts. Keeping whatever manipulative intent this foul device has away from him.

_ And Rey, _ a small conscience reminds him.

The weight of her presence had been a wave of calm in his stormy ocean for the past several months, as much as he hates her impact. They’d been, undeniably, healing together, circling each other, after the salted wound in their hearts that was Crait.

But he’ll be damned if he lets some Sith piece of junk get to her before he gets to Palpatine.

He’ll be damned if he lets another Snoke to rise.

And then after the Emperor is dead, he’ll be free again.

And in time she’ll take his hand. As she always should have.

“Well done, Supreme Leader.”

Hux stands behind him with his hands clasped coolly behind his back, clearly disobeying orders and clearly looking much more composed than Kylo himself is. He, for one, doesn’t have Mustafarian grime in his hair, but Kylo is too worn from battle to give him a good afternoon Force choke.

“I see you’ve found what we’re looking for,” Hux says, eyeing the glowing Wayfinder. “I can have it transported back to the fleet-”

“Pull the division out. Or what’s left of them,” Kylo interrupts. “And tell General Pryde to send down my Whisperer.”

“I-” Hux stammers. “But sir, wouldn’t you consider it safer if-”

“Tell me, General,” Kylo advances on him, but he keeps his expression flat even though his insides are groaning with exasperation. “Why wouldn’t you consider me heading straight to Exegol and killing the Emperor where he stands,  _ if he stands,  _ the safest course of action to secure the First Order’s rule?”

Hux pauses. Blinks himself some reconsideration into his senses. “Ah.”

Kylo shakes his head and turns away again. “And one last thing.”

“What’s that, sir?”

“Contact the Knights of Ren,” says Kylo. “Tell them to meet me on Arvala-7…”

_ Grandson?  _ Another voice, sudden, curious, less tinged with the Dark Side of the Force, prods at him and draws him in. Kylo’s words trail off, as he squints out towards the trees for its source.

_ Vader’s grandson, are you?  _ The voice chuckles, almost good-naturedly.  _ Come here, so I can give you a proper welcome. _

“Sir?” Hux waves a hand in front of his face.

Kylo looks at him again. “Get back to the fleet.”

Hux frowns. “But-”

_ “Go.” _

The general huffs and does as he’s told, muttering under his breath.

Kylo heads the other direction, sieving through the trees, heeding the strange call.

_ Grandson, grandson, grandson. _

After a minute, he identifies a body of water in the distance, the dim sunlight glinting off the surface of the ripples.

He stumbles closer, until he reaches the edge of what seems to be a small lake.

“Who’s there?” he calls raggedly at the open water.

For a moment, nothing. No response.

And then the dead centre of the lake begins to bubble, sending the water to lap at Kylo’s feet. Out of it emerges a creature of sorts. At first its spindly legs crane outwards so it seems to be afloat on the surface of the lake. Then more of it rises from within the shadowy water and now the oversized insect is perched atop what looks like the pale, equally oversized head of a child.

_ “Grandson,” _ says the creature.  _ “You seek that which you cannot have.” _

Kylo’s breath catches in his throat. “You know nothing about me.”

_ “I know everything about you,” _ the creature retorts.  _ “Ben Solo.” _

“Don’t call me that,” Kylo snarls. “Ben Solo is gone.”

The creature shifts questioningly, its legs outstretched in all directions.  _ “And yet you bear the burden of your father’s death. Why is that, if not clinging to your lineage?” _

Kylo opens his mouth to protest, probably shout, but he can’t find a single rational argument in all his guilt. Instead what comes out is a shaky, “Who are you?”

_ “The locals used to call me an oracle,”  _ says the oracle.  _ “But to you, I am someone grateful.” _

“Is the act of insulting someone your way of showing gratitude?”

_ “I mean no offense,”  _ says the oracle imperiously.  _ “These acolytes have swarmed our planet, destroyed our new forests, prevented it from healing, all to protect what you hold in your hand.” _

Kylo lifts the Wayfinder up between them, eyes narrowed.

“Then you know it’s the answer. With this, the First Order can finally bring peace to the galaxy.”

_ “Peace?”  _ The oracle laughs, a gurgling laugh.  _ “Oh, you are far from peace, Grandson.” _

Kylo’s heart begins pounding in his ears. If this is an oracle, that means… “You know my future.”

_ “I have seen your future,”  _ the oracle confirms. _ “Only you have the power to make it come to pass.” _

Kylo leans forward, so tranced that he doesn’t comprehend his boot dipping into the water. “What did you see?”

He half expects the oracle to call for a price, something in exchange for the information. But it seems he’s lucky he’s caught it in a good mood.

_ “The conflict inside you. About the girl.”  _ The oracle points at him with one clacking limb.  _ “You still seek her, and not just her, but her love to mirror yours.” _

Kylo shrinks away in disappointment. “There is no conflict, at least not about her. I know what I want.”

_ “Do you? Good luck telling her that.”  _ Then the oracle sighs, almost wistful. _ “At least you are together when you return to me.” _

“What makes you think I’m coming back?” Kylo scoffs.

The oracle preens,  _ “We do have lovely fields, not far from here.” _

What a deranged thing. Its ridiculous head is stuck in a bunch of clouds it cannot even see.

“You’re useless,” Kylo snaps, and turns around, preparing to leave. “Any last words?”

One of the oracle’s back legs reaches over itself, opening its claws to release something small and ovular into the water. Whatever it is, stays afloat, and the oracle sweeps it across the water towards where Kylo stands by the shore.

It collides lightly against the heel of his boot, and he picks it up, inspecting it with an overtone of disdain.

It’s a seed, around a quarter the size of his palm.

_ “Plant your trees, Ben Solo,” _ says the oracle.  _ “Watch them grow.” _

The Supreme Leader only shakes his head, and swears to dispose of such a meaningless offering as soon as he’s off-world.

But no one, not any of the surviving troopers, nor the pilots, nor Hux, nor even Kylo himself sees his own gloved fingers slip the seed into his trouser pocket, beneath two layers of tunic.

He can’t discern why a seed would ever be of any importance to him, but an instinct tells him it’ll take him where he needs to go. Not now, but in the end.

Somehow, he trusts it to take him home.

Wherever home is.

* * *

As he drives the Whisperer planetside, he catches a glimpse of the other half of Mustafar. The healing half. The side without the ashy smoke and raided grounds.

He sees it, and he feels like kicking something.

The oracle was right.

There’s a bright, open grassland. A field, where the wind is gentle and the birds are chirping and the sun rises exactly how it’s supposed to. His heart twinges as he tears himself away.

It is quite lovely.

It reminds him of Naboo.

* * *

Back in the depths of the small Mustafar lake, the oracle is practically prancing in excitement.

It senses the seed of a mighty tree being tucked away in an uncertain pocket, it senses the stirring of the Force when faced with a new threat, it senses the onslaught of  _ balance,  _ after generations and generations.

It senses that this boy, Ben, is one half of the key to it, just like the day is complete with the night. It senses that this boy, Ben, will do what his grandfather Anakin could not. The oracle has lived through those times. It can tell when it’s coming to an end.

It senses the girl, training somewhere on the far side of the galaxy, tethered to who she presumes to be her enemy, a twin flame that will never be doused. It senses that together, she and Ben are the start of a new world.

It’ll just take a while for them to build it. To  _ heal  _ it.

But the oracle is patient. It has waited over a hundred years. What’s a few days more?

_ “Godspeed,”  _ the oracle cries happily, at the shooting star that is Ben Solo’s ship disappearing into hyperspace.  _ “Godspeed, young prince.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again, or should i say... goodbye?
> 
> i told yall i would update all of you on the status of the extra final chapter + the epilogue and right now, i don't think they're in posting condition at all. and i don't know when i'll ever find the motivation to brush it up. so for now... i guess this really is goodbye.
> 
> i can't believe it's been almost a year!! at first i was mostly doing this out of spite and to get over this vast oceanic depression that was literally drowning me from the inside out, and on christmas i wrote and posted the first 2 chapters of this story. 4k words in a single night. who says rage isn't a good motivator? it damn fucking well is. this fic is proof.
> 
> eventually, yall started leaving these heartwrenching long ass comments and spamming me with it chapter after chapter, saying how much the story meant to you and how it made you cry, and damn if THAT didn't make ME cry,,, that was when i realised i wasn't JUST writing for myself anymore. i'm not kidding when i say - i owe it all to you guys. it was YOUR comments, YOUR support that helped me crawl to the finish line (or somewhat near it) when i'd already lost all my interest in star wars. thank you. thank you thank you thank you.
> 
> (im plagarising marie kondo here) star wars may not spark joy to me anymore, but if it sparks joy to you guys, this chapter would have been my final gift to you. i can only hope i did these characters justice and fixed enough of what jj abrams broke.
> 
> till next time!! and may the force be with you, always <3
> 
> \- shruggyben / eleanor


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pulls out a chair captain america style* SO. ITS CHRISTMAS AND YOU HAVE PTSD (post tros stress disorder). JJ ABRAMS MESSED UP. AND YOU'RE SUFFERING FOR IT WHILE HE'S SOMEWHERE OUT THERE GETTING MILLIONS OF DOLLARS FOR HIS HOT PILE OF GARBAGE. YOU FEEL TERRIBLE. BUT DON'T WORRY. THAT JUST LEAVES ME, THE WRITER, WITH A BIG RESPONSIBILITY: FIX THIS MESS.
> 
> SO SIT BACK, DRY YOUR TEARS, AND HANG ON FOR A WILD, ROMANTIC RIDE.
> 
> (ALSO!! THIS IS AN UPDATE BUT I WOULD LIKE TO GIVE A SHOUTOUT TO @kajotko (ig/tumblr/twitter) WHO DREW A GORGEOUS POSTER/COVER PAGE FOR THIS FIC. IT'S BEEN WEEKS AND I'M STILL STARING AT IT AHH I GODDAMN LOVE IT SO MUCH BECAUSE NOT ONLY DOES IT ENCAPSULATE WHAT YOU, MY NEW READERS, ARE ABOUT TO EXPERIENCE, IT ALSO HAS BUTTERFLY BEN SOLO IMAGERY WHICH HAS RECENTLY BEEN VALIDATED BY A DAMN BB-8 ANIMATED SHOW. I CANNOT BELIEVE......)

The red dot inside the Sith Wayfinder blinks rapidly as Kylo steers his ship down to Exegol. He’s close. Closer than Vader ever was, to ruling the galaxy, unchallenged and permanent. It should be a good thing. It should be. To kill his grandfather’s killer.

But in recent days, the voices in his head only grew. The voices he’d heard since infancy. With a repressed shudder, his thoughts stray to Snoke. It’s impossible. Snoke is dead. Shouldn’t the voices have stopped? He should have been free to make his own decisions as a ruler. Like he was always meant to be.

Yet some small hidden part of him, perhaps one that had belonged to Ben Solo, is protesting against the hands that are landing his ship in the cold grey dirt; _I have a bad feeling about this._

The Whisperer hits the surface of the planet with a rough thunk, and at that very moment, the whispers inside Kylo’s mind simultaneously crests and then goes pitch-silent. He thinks he can’t even hear his own breath.

He steels himself and disembarks, igniting his saber and striding towards the towering lair where the cursed Emperor is surely hiding.

Eventually he manages to find his way into the darkness below. Lightning shooting into or up from the ground, he can’t quite tell. It’s loud and it sounds like human screams.

He barely takes his first few steps, when the voices, condensed into one, horrible, haunting voice, echoes through the lair and penetrates his mind so that he can hardly think.

**“At last. Snoke trained you well.”**

Kylo breathes, slowly. He’s still in control. “I killed Snoke. I’ll kill you.”

He practically feels the darkness of the Force, deeper and darker than he has ever allowed himself to feel, tendrils of it wrapping around him, suffocating in a way that seems more spiritual than physical.

**“My boy, I made Snoke.”**

Kylo rounds the corner and sees a sickening, green tank of fluids, within it floating two identical bodies of Snoke, severed at the torso. Just as he had done.

He feels the darkness laughing at him. Mocking. **“I have been every voice…”**

Snoke’s voice, scratchy, full of menace, one that he’d been secretly trying to escape for as long as he could remember, **“… you have ever heard…”**

Vader’s, mechanical and authoritative, one that he’d been pleading for guidance from for as long as he could remember, **“… inside your head.”**

His heart beats at the speed of light, even as it sinks. Not even his own grandfather was ever truly there for him. He’s beginning to think that nothing he’s ever heard in his life was real, when Palpatine continues.

**“The First Order was just the beginning. I will give you so much more.”**

“You have nothing,” Kylo growls, stepping around mechanical tanks and pools of bacta, eyes bright with tension. “The galaxy thinks you’re dead.”

The darkness smirks. Out of it, in the split-second brightness of the lightning all around, emerges a cloaked figure hanging by all kinds of tubes and wires and lifelines. A pale, disfigured face with icy, pupiless eyes.

**“The Dark Side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural.”**

He flings his saber arm up so fast he barely registers himself moving. His blade is immediately inches from the Emperor’s throat. The old man smiles, and it’s the most unsettling thing Kylo has ever seen.

“What could you give me?” Kylo asks, quiet but threatening.

**“Everything. A new empire.”**

The lighting cracks, screaming all around him.

**“The might of the Final Order will soon be ready. It will be yours if you do as I ask.”**

Kylo does not lower his saber. “What do you want?”

The Emperor pauses. For a second he seems to be relishing the big reveal, as if he knows it will do some extent of damage to Kylo.

**“Bring me the girl.”**

That’s it. He should kill him. He should run him through with his blade, cut the lifelines and wires, do something, anything to end this twisted man’s life. But the Force holds him back. And for the first time, he doesn’t know which side of it does. So he stills his hand and listens.

**“I can turn her to the Dark Side, like you have always wanted, but failed to do. Then you can rule the galaxy as Emperor and Empress. I will succeed, for I know she has done unspeakable things. Just as you have.”**

Finally, Kylo lowers his saber. He takes a sharp breath, unsure of what he wants to hear.

He’d told her the truth a year ago. The truth that he saw in mere flashes, from the gentle, yet sparking brush of their fingertips. The way he came back to his own vision, and the first thing he’d seen was her, tears streaming down her face, bathed in firelight, warm and promising a future he never dared to believe in.

 _Well,_ he thinks, swallowing the memory and burying it deep down because this is no place for such thoughts, _if there’s more to her story, I want to know all of it. All of her._

“What has she done?” he asks in a voice barely louder than a whisper, yet amplified over the screams of lightning.

Palpatine smiles, and shows him.

* * *

**_TR:_ ** _I cannot compromise my position. I’m not sure what else I’ll learn, but this is by far the most important message I’ve acquired. Boolio will provide you with it, like before._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _so its not even safe to send here? directly to me? how can you be a spy if you don’t even trust who you’re spying for?_

**_TR:_ ** _First of all, laserbrain, the file is too large and too critical to be sent via holomessage. Secondly, I don’t trust anyone. That’s how I’ve survived in the First Order for this long._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _lucky you_

**_TR:_ ** _You’ve no idea. The Supreme Leader can be an absolute menace._

\---

Poe chuckles, in spite of himself.

It’s the third time the spy has sent them information, messages, transcriptions, recordings for the Resistance to decode. _Whoever they are,_ Poe finds himself thinking, _at least_ _they have a sense of humour._

The snippets of information had previously been small, often audio recordings or security footage of meetings involving the higher ups, even Kylo Ren. Which leads to Poe subconsciously wondering whether the spy is part of the security team who handles the cameras, a guard stationed outside these meetings or literally and most unlikely; someone within the higher ranks itself.

Their conversations, held once every fortnight and slowly getting more frequent, are wired into a computer on the Falcon, opposite the dejarik table where Finn, Rose and Chewie are currently playing.

“You sure you wanna make that move?” Poe hears Rose ask Chewie, mockingly.

According to her, she’d used to play the game all the time with Paige as a kid, and turns out she’s one of the best players in the Resistance. Aside from Chewie, whose affection for the small woman does nothing to stem his competitiveness and determination to win every time.

Poe hears Chewie hesitate.

“How does he do it?” Finn whispers.

“This guy right here?” Rose says. “That’s ‘cuz he cheats.”

Chewie roars indignantly.

“We’re kidding, calm down!” Rose cries, the same time Finn defends, “You’re taking a long time to go, that’s why we think you’re cheating!”

Chewie glares at them, unconvinced.

An alarm goes off in the cockpit.

“We’re coming up at the location,” Poe says.

Chewie rumbles suspiciously and skulks to the cockpit.

“Don’t worry, we won’t turn it off,” Rose assures him.

But as soon as he’s out of range, Finn turns the holograms off. “He’s definitely cheating. You saw that didn’t you, Poe?”

“Yep,” Poe smirks, following Chewie. “You should be grateful, Rose, you’re the only person who can win him without getting your arms ripped off.”

“I take pride in that,” Rose beams as she collects her tool belt and gloves from a console.

The Falcon skids to a halt mid-air, right beneath a hatch. It opens to reveal Boolio, the middleman between the Resistance and the rogue spy.

Sometimes, Poe wishes, watching Finn plug the message into R2-D2, that their mystery ally would just reveal themselves and come back to base with them. Three times they’ve given valuable information, without getting caught, stuck in a place crawling with the most dangerous army in the galaxy. Poe feels second-hand anxiety for this spy.

Suddenly Rose careens into the cockpit.

“Poe! We got company!” she shouts, pointing ahead.

Poe looks up to see at least eight or nine TIE fighters dropping out of hyperspace and speeding towards them.

“Do me a favour, get that hyperdrive up and running,” Poe pats Rose on the shoulder and heads out of the cockpit.

“But Rey said—” Rose starts.

“Well, Rey’s not here, is she?” Poe calls, passing Finn and R2 in the corridor. “Come on, buddy, we gotta go. Is that message downloaded?”

“Got it!” Finn rips the plug as soon as the message is in, and returns it to Boolio.

Poe gets to the computer and frantically starts typing.

**\---**

**_M-FALC:_ ** _message received. i still don’t understand why you can’t just come back with us. its much safer for you her_

**_TR:_ ** _If it was even possible, I’d say that you’re worried about me. Save your breath, Dameron. I’ll be fine. Get the message to your General._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _how do i thank you_

**_TR:_ ** _Win the war._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _seriously_

**_TR:_ ** _Seriously. It’ll piss Ren off._

**\---**

“Poe!” Finn screams from the cockpit. “What the hell are you doing back there?”

“Coming!” Poe hollers.

Rose pokes her head from the hyperdrive vent up ahead. “Well, so are they!”

The wailing of the TIE fighters is getting louder by the second.

Poe slams one last line into the computer and sprints to the cockpit, grinning like an idiot.

**\---**

****

**_M-FALC:_ ** _for the record, i am worried about you. youre crazy brave!!_

**_TR:_ ** _For the record, I don’t care, and you’re just crazy._

**\---**

By the time Poe and Chewie get the Falcon moving, Finn and Rose are already in the gunner positions. They deflect rear shields and as the TIEs start firing at them, multiple alarms start blaring.

“What are you guys doing down there, you’re supposed to be getting rid of them!” Poe shouts.

He hears an explosion not far behind them.

“I got one!” Finn’s tinny voice echoes from inside the headset.

“How many are left?” Poe asks.

“Too many!” Rose replies.

The Falcon zooms through the maze of ice and frozen buildings suspended in space, structures stretching up and over them, and it’s almost as if they can’t get out. It’s only a matter of time before they get cornered, Poe knows this.

The crossfire from the TIEs only rain more relentlessly.

Chewie barks an idea. Poe looks, and sure enough, up ahead, there’s a bridge hanging low within the tunnel.

“Good thinking, Chewie,” Poe says, and switches his comms to Finn and Rose. “Hey, you think you can boulder these TIEs?”

“We were just thinking that!” comes Rose’s determined reply.

He watches them blast the bridge down and right onto a bunch of TIE fighters, all of which explode under the impact. The rest zip right past the damage.

“They still on us?” he asks.

“Yeah!”

He looks ahead, and there’s an ice wall. That’s it. Their time is up. They’re cornered. TIEs are flooding in from all directions, closing the distance desperately, and there’s no foreseeable way to escape.

Then, unbidden, Poe thinks about the spy, whoever the hell they might be, and a new wave of defiance overcomes him. He won’t go down like this. Not now, not today. The spy didn’t risk their life to get this information for nothing.

If someone in the First goddamn Order is brave enough to stick his neck out for the Resistance, Poe can get him and his friends out of this mess.

Even if it means Rey will kill him if he ever gets back to base. Poe takes a deep breath.

“How thick do you think that ice wall is?” he asks Chewie.

The last thing he hears before he throws them into the first round of lightspeed is Finn, Rose, and Chewie’s protesting groans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter should be up in the next few days!! if not feel free to yell at me for spoilers on my tumblr @shruggyben hehe
> 
> HOPE YALL LIKED THIS FIRST CHAPTER AHHH i'm sorry i don't know what that ice floating thingy is called (that place where they collected the spy's message) and also i thought yall should know, im making up this hux and poe online messaging thingy and im 99.9% sure messages don't work like that in star wars but u know what,,, screw canon
> 
> TR is short for 'transmission' and M-FALC speaks for itself
> 
> also,, kudos to my pal joni who's overseas but took the time to beta read this shit. big love to her <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things to look forward to this chapter:  
> \- first reylo force bond  
> \- rey and leia moments  
> \- rey + finn, poe, rose interactions!!  
> \- more interesting,,,,, rose screentime,,,,, hehe

_Be with me._

_Be with me._

_Be with me._

Rey opens her eyes.

“They’re not with me,” she groans. “Ugh!”

She releases her hold on the rocks that had been drifting around her levitating torso, and sets her feet back on solid ground.

“Rey,” Leia chides, not without a hint of amusement. “Be patient.”

“It’s been weeks,” Rey huffs. “Maybe they just don’t want to talk to me.”

She sits down beside Leia on a fallen log. Leia shuts the book she’d been reading and watches Rey carefully.

“Luke didn’t explain much of this to me, but from what I understand…” Leia says, thinking. “You haven’t given them a reason to be so passive, have you?"

“Considering I’ve never actually heard or met any of them before, no,” Rey says. “Except maybe Luke.”

“Just because you hit him on the head once doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to talk to you,” Leia chuckles. “I don’t think my brother would hold a grudge so petty. Especially in times like this.”

“By ‘times like this’ you mean when Palpatine’s returned?” Rey asks hopelessly, turning to face Leia. “I’m beginning to think he’s the reason why I can’t make contact with any of the Jedi who came before.”

“It’s possible,” Leia frowns. “Like how Snoke blocked me out from—”

She cuts herself off and sighs. Rey doesn’t need her to finish the sentence.

Ben.

Rey feels her whole body sighing too. Even the mere thought of him, the last time she’d seen him, gloved hand outstretched, eyes softer than she’s ever known, bathed in firelight. His voice gentle, pleading. Like he’d never want to hurt her. Inside, her heart aches. In exhaustion, desperation. In yearning.

She banishes the feeling as best as she can, because times like this is no time for such thoughts.

It’s almost been a year. As much as it hurts, they seem to be on different paths. He’s out there now, probably plotting to destroy her and the Resistance. He’s made his choice. And she’s made hers.

“I’m going to run the training course,” she tells Leia.

So Rey runs, and she runs, and she runs, and she doesn’t stop for anything. Not even BB-8, who has been supportive and excited about her journey as a Jedi since the beginning, trailing along behind her at a speed they didn’t previously have. She’s grateful for their company.

She’s grown stronger, indefinitely, within the past year. Sacrificing field missions for training time. She’s barely left the planet. A small price to pay for proper lightsaber duelling skills and a stronger connection to the Force, especially since they’d— no, _he’d_ — torn her saber into half. It’s not as stable as it used to be, despite being craftily cobbled back together with the best of her and Rose Tico’s abilities. The edges of what was once a smooth, humming blade was now crackling and pulsing with an energy she’d needed time to get used to.

At least by then she’d be ready to face him again. For real.

Not like one of the super-secret sparring sessions she’d had more than once, whenever the bond connected them at their most infuriating moments during the past year. Most of those moments, he’d destroyed half his training room on some First Order flagship, and she’d be in the middle of hacking her latest training droid to bits.

Both sweaty, furious, lusting for a more competitive opponent, and often half-dressed. A split second image of a hard, sculpted back, muscles flexing in the moonlight as a shirt is being pulled overhead, flashes through her mind.

Rey stumbles slightly, and BB-8 beeps their concern. But she regains her bearings before the training droid can catch up.

No. She will not get distracted now.

She runs, jumps, swings, throws herself across more of a canyon than a cliff, landing gracefully on the other end. She wears a helmet with a blast shield and deflects bolts from the training droid, balancing on a rope suspended above a hundred foot drop, and balancing the Force within herself.

She scales a tree, slicing a red ribbon, getting shorter from all the previous rounds she’s done, which makes her climb higher and higher every subsequent round.

She lands firmly on her two feet. And she keeps running.

Her frustration, on the other hand, only grows. The latest sparring droid must have been programmed to be more feisty. Which on normal occasions, is a good thing. But today, for some reason, something’s making her tick.

Just because it’s easy, and it makes enough sense, she blames it on _him_. She can feel his presence, humming at the other end of the bond, wherever he is, whatever he's doing.

The droid zaps her once, twice, thrice. She lets out a cry of pain when it zaps her for the fourth time. She can feel BB-8’s curious ocular lens watching her. She feels they are more judgemental than usual.

_Kriff this._

She flings her lightsaber through the trees, slashing and slicing, and then summons a branch as a makeshift staff. The training droid is busy sensing the saber in flight. At its distraction, she rams the branch through the droid with a yell of triumph just as her saber returns to her hand.

She senses something else behind her, and at first she thinks it’s another training droid.

But she doesn’t notice the sounds of the forest being sucked out of earshot. Like what always happens when he’s around.

* * *

_She’s thinking about me._

Kylo can feel it, as he makes his way to his quarters, even when he’s galaxies away. He could feel her anywhere.

As if to drive his suspicions home, he sees an image of his own bare, scarred back flashing before his eyes, and it takes him by surprise.

He does a quick, instinctive check on the walls of his mind, making sure they’re tightly shut and devoid of Palpatine. If he were to see that, Kylo is surely a dead man walking.

_Kriff, Rey._

His footsteps falter and he can practically feel the tips of his ears grow red. He can sense the passing lieutenants, officers, even groups of stormtroopers staring at him as he strides by.

He’s always been terrible at hiding his emotions. He decides he needs his mask back.

Kylo enters his quarters and seals the door behind him. He’s only just begun to shut out all thoughts of her, when the Force adamantly disagrees.

* * *

She collides into his chest with an _oomph_ and bounces back, bringing her lightsaber up in front of her. Defensive. On instinct.

They don’t say anything for a long while, watching each other, circling each other like wild animals, except neither one is prey nor predator.

“Bad day?” he asks conversationally.

“Switch off,” she snarls, and aims a half-hearted swipe of her lightsaber at his chest. It’s more in annoyance than of actual desire to maim.

Which is going to be a problem when they have to face each other again. In real life. She needs to stop getting used to this.

The lightsaber blade passes through his chest like he’s nothing but thin air. He doesn’t even flinch. He’s used to it too.

The bond had grown in more ways than one. They could pass things back and forth. Like the time she’d been on Hoth for a rare recon mission, and didn’t bring enough layers. He’d given her his cloak without a word, her grumbling and protesting but shivering violently, and he’d vanished before she could return it. Said cloak now suffices as a makeshift blanket on her bunk back at base.

They could touch skin to skin, feel… more of each other, instead of just fingertips. Like that time they were sparring, across galaxies, and he had her back flush to his chest, cornered, staves at her neck, he could feel the warmth of the forest and her the coldness of space. More balance than either of them had felt in a long time.

But they could no longer inflict pain on each other. At least, not physical pain.

No matter how many times she used him as target practice with Han’s blaster, he felt no pain. She often did it while he was incapable to move, in the middle of an important First Order meeting. Closing one eye and imagining he was the same monster she had found in the forest on Starkiller. The one that had pledged to destroy her and Luke and the Resistance on Crait. It helped.

What did hurt, however, was the fact that their emotions and intense longing for each other was amplified through the bond, and how hard they were trying to suppress it.

Rey squints at him now, breathing heavily. She senses that today, he’s trying a little less harder than usual to do so. She feels his concern and relief for her, loud as ever, radiating down the bond, and she tries not to feel pleased. Instead she focuses on what he’s trying to hide: trepidation.

“You’re hiding something,” Rey observes, trying to catch her breath. She raises the branch in her hand and points it at him. “You know you can’t hide it for long. Not from me.”

His lower eyelid ticks, like it always does when he’s anxious or uncertain. His eyes travel up and down her panting body.

“I’m surprised you care about what I have to hide,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against an unseen wall.

“I do,” Rey says, twirling the branch by her side and then dropping it, her gaze fixed on his. “Because chances are, it’ll make me angry, and I can’t get angrier than I already am.”

Kylo sighs and they lapse into another shared silence. At first Rey thinks this stubborn man really isn’t going to say bantha shit, but the second she turns away she can feel the truth bubbling to his surface.

“The rumours about Palpatine,” he says slowly, as if measuring his words and his tone. “They’re all true. He was behind everything. Snoke, all the voices in my head.”

At that, Rey freezes.

She can feel Kylo telling the truth; he'd never lied to her, he never could, at least not without her sensing it. Which means their worst fears had been confirmed. Palpatine had purposely revealed his true identity to the entire galaxy. It can't mean anything good.

She finds herself inevitably and reluctantly sympathetic for him, thinking back on Leia's words, her despair at losing her son to Snoke. She doesn't want to imagine her despair when she finds out Palpatine, of all people, had been manipulating her son all along.

She deactivates her saber and turns back to him, keeping her face carefully passive.

“I saw him,” he continues. “He wants me to take you to him.”

Rey actually scoffs. “Serving another master?”

“No,” says Kylo. “I have other plans.”

“Let me guess,” Rey sneers. She gestures at the space between them. “You’re here to ask me to join you, again, so we can kill him together and rule the galaxy? My answer’s still no.”

“The Emperor knows you,” Kylo says, stepping closer.

“People keep telling me they know me,” Rey says, her irritation bubbling harder than before. “No one does.”

She could have completed the training course if it weren’t for his intrusion. Is that all he came here to tell her? She shoves her lightsaber back onto her belt and starts heading back to base.

“But I do,” Kylo says, more firmly now, more directly. “I do now. Better than before.”

She doesn’t turn back around to face him. She says nothing, and keeps moving, towards the base.

“Rey,” Kylo’s voice is quiet, genuine, like her name always is on his tongue, his trepidation fully flooding down the bond now. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just want you to listen.”

Rey swallows hard.

“I don’t care what you want,” Her voice is no less quiet, but holds no little hostility.

She wants to look back. She wants to see his expression. She's dying for him to bite back, insult her, draw his weapon, anything.

But she hears his resigned sigh not far behind, and then the rustling of the leaves in the wind abruptly returns to her ears. When she finally whips around, he’s gone.

Her frustration overflows. She ignites her saber and slices down a tree with a cry of rage.

The trunk lands so heavily that it shakes the ground, and the sensation brings Rey a slight sense of relief.

Until the tree emits a series of pained beeps, and Rey rushes over to find BB-8 crushed underneath it, one of their parts fallen loose and lying in the bushes.

As she spews countless apologies and uses the Force to lift the tree off her little companion, she brushes away a small, guilty part of her bugging at the edges of her mind.

Because snarling and slashing things is what _Kylo Ren_ does.

* * *

Rey’s curled up in her bunk, surrounded by Luke’s Jedi texts, murmuring the readings to herself, when she hears Connix’s shout from below.

“Rey! Falcon’s back!”

She shuts her books, pushes Kylo’s cloak from her lap and sprints down to the ground level, with BB-8 in tow.

Sure enough, the Falcon’s back. And it’s on fire.

Its occupants emerge from within, coughing, followed by puffs of smoke, soot smeared on their faces. Poe’s yelling for the flames to be put out.

Of course. She should have expected this.

Her disapproval must be written all over her face, because the second Poe catches sight of her, his face falls.

“How did it go?” Rey asks, crossing her arms.

“Really bad. Really bad, actually,” Poe replies, shamelessly, as he approaches her.

“Han’s ship,” she gestures to the flaming Falcon.

Poe sees BB-8 and frowns, “What’d you do to the droid?”

“What’d you do to the Falcon?”

“The Falcon’s in a lot better shape than they are.”

“BB-8’s not on fire.”

“What’s left of them isn’t on fire.”

“Can you just tell me what happened?” Rey feels the last of her patience evaporating.

“You tell me first,” he says.

She keeps her smile flat, “You know what you are?”

“What?”

“You’re difficult. You’re a difficult man.”

“You—” Poe shakes his head and gives up.

Finn’s voice pipes in from behind Poe, “Rey!”

Rey beams at the sight of Finn and Rose, faces marked with ash but smiling and welcome. She jogs up to them and hugs them both at once. “Glad you made it back!”

“Glad we’re in one piece,” Rose huffs.

“How was training?” Finn asks.

Rey sighs. “Same as usual. I’m exhausted.”

She can feel Rose watching her carefully. She catches Rey’s eye and raises an eyebrow.

Rey knows exactly what she means. But now’s not the time. Not when Finn and Poe are around.

“Bad mood?” Rey asks quickly.

“Who, me?” says Finn.

Rey points a thumb over her shoulder at Poe.

“Always,” Rose scoffs. Then she raises her voice so Poe can hear. “When he’s not obsessing over his little friend in the First Order.”

“Wait,” Rey frowns, striding back to face Poe. “So no spy?”

“Trust me, I want ‘em here as badly as you do,” Poe grumbles. “They said they’re not ready to leave the Order just yet, so they sent us another message—”

“Well, to hell with what they think, you should have just collected them,” Rey says.

“Oh, yeah, invade the First Order with a big sign that says ‘OUR BELOVED SPY, PLEASE REVEAL YOURSELF’, like it’s not gonna get them, _and us,_ killed in two seconds—”

“Guys, guys—” Finn starts.

“How do you even know we can trust them?” Rey asks, exasperated.

“Maybe we should just—” Rose starts.

“And how do we know we can rely on _you_?” Poe explodes, jabbing a finger at Rey, “If you have ideas, you should just say it, while we’re actually _on_ the mission—”

“Poe, you know I have to stay here and train—”

“Yeah, and for what?” he snaps. “So you can kill Kylo Ren? Because you’ve been training for months and months, and you haven’t done that yet!”

“Poe,” Rose says sharply. “That’s enough.”

“You’re already the strongest fighter we have,” Poe goes on, his voice softening but still just as firm. “We need you out there, not here.”

With that, he storms off into the base.

Rey feels like her whole body was dipped in ice. Numb from the inevitable truth of his words, no matter how harshly he put it.

Finn sighs. “He’s pissed, but he’s got a point.”

He pats Rey twice on the shoulder and goes after the angry commander. Rey stares after him, until Rose places a gentle, comforting hand on her arm.

“Don’t mind Poe,” she says. “He likes getting attached to the missions, y’know.”

“I know,” Rey says.

“Hey,” Rose turns to face her then, serious. “Tell me, really. How was training?”

Rey finally tears her eyes down to fix them on Rose.

By ‘how was training’, she actually meant ‘did you and Kylo Ren have another one of those Force bond moments that I walked into last month when you were on top of him and your staff was at his throat and I’ve never seen you look so murderous and I’ve never seen him look so calm and oh _kriff_ , Rey, are you in love with Kylo Ren?’

Rose is the only other person, aside from Leia, who knows about her bond with Kylo. Despite the reveal being a complete, flustering accident, Rose had actually taken it quite well, as compassionate as she is, and swore it to secrecy. Rey couldn’t be more thankful, especially after she realised how surprisingly good Rose’s consolations could be.

“Yeah,” Rey croaks. “I saw him again.”

“Bad timing?” Rose cringes.

Rey nods. “The worst.”

“What did he say?” Rose wrinkles her nose. “Something stupid?”

Rey thinks about it. She decides to be fair. “And kind of important.”

They start walking towards the base together.

“You gonna tell me about it?” Rose asks.

“If the spy is telling the truth,” Rey says, gesturing towards the crowd of Resistance fighters gathered around the hologram of the retrieved message. “You’ll find out anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> exchanging wedding vows within the first force bond already???? sign me tf up
> 
> those two idiots have a relationship like:  
> "i fucking love you!"  
> "i fucking love you too!"  
> "fine then i guess we're dating!"  
> "fine!"  
> "fine!"
> 
> they share both one soul and one braincell ahhh i love them
> 
> next chapter should be up sometime tomorrow too, if i dont post it yell at me @shruggyben on tumblr!! thanks for all ur support and enthusiasm it means the world to me :DD


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first off, i rly wanna thank all of u amazing readers for reading and commenting such encouraging and thought provoking comments!! yall rly big brain huh,,,,
> 
> anywayssss hope u enjoy this one yeet
> 
> things to look forward to this chapter:  
> \- leia and rey's last scene together ;-; (why is this on the list)  
> \- knights of ren and yes they have canon names, this bitch had to look it up because SOMEBODY *glares at jj abrams* couldnt be bothered to put it in the movie. i also took the liberty of giving them lines and personalities. you're welcome. *spits*  
> \- HUX POV AND MORE GINGERPILOT YALL GO CRAZY GO STUPID
> 
> (gingerpilot art at the end by the lovely @icedaquarius31 on tumblr / @IcedAquarius on AO3!! thank you so much!!)

Turns out, the spy is telling the truth. For a second, Rey entertains the possibility of it being Kylo. But she suspects the truth will only disappoint her, so she lets the thought go.

Palpatine is back. He’s hiding on Exegol, and he’s taken over the First Order’s army. Having revealed military secrets of the old Empire, their fleet had now increased tenfold in terms of size and technological advancements. He’d been behind Snoke, behind everything, all this time.

The name ‘Exegol’ rings an ominous bell in Rey’s memory, so she digs it out, literally, from Luke’s Jedi texts and pulls Leia aside after the meeting.

“I know how to get to Exegol,” she tells the General. “Luke tried to get there before, he almost found it.”

“What went wrong?”

“He couldn’t locate the Sith Wayfinder,” Rey explains, showing Leia the diagram Luke had marked out. “It’s the only device in the galaxy that can lead us to that specific area of the Unknown Regions.”

“Rey,” Leia says, shaking her head. “Even if we do find Exegol, we need to think about what we’ll do when we get there. We don’t have enough allies to take down a fleet that huge.”

“We can try sending out a distress signal again,” Rey suggests. “This isn’t just the Resistance at stake, it’s the whole galaxy. It’s bigger than the war we’re already fighting.”

Leia peers at her curiously for a moment. “Ben told you something, didn’t he? He came to you.”

Rey hesitates, and then nods. “He said the Emperor wants to see me. That he knows me. I think he wants to turn me to the Dark Side.”

The General sits down heavily, processing the information.

“Leia, I know what his game is,” Rey is confident now. “Ben tried it before, but it won’t work. I won’t let it happen.”

“Rey, you don’t know that.” Leia looks up back at her, her expression grave. “If you go to the Emperor, he might tell you something you don’t want to know. You’ll never be the same again.”

“If I go to him,” Rey echoes. “He won’t get the chance. I can defeat him, but I can’t do it alone. I need the Resistance behind me. Please.”

Leia pauses, and watches her with eyes full of concern, admiration and hope all at once. For a split second, the faraway twinkle in her eye is even remarkably reminiscent of Luke.

She sighs and takes Rey’s hand in hers.

“You have my brother’s spirit,” says Leia fondly. “And for that, no matter the cost, I’ll make sure you have the whole galaxy behind you.”

Rey smiles gratefully. “Thank you, General.”

“I’ll send out another call,” Leia decides. “And I know just where to start. Where will you go?”

Rey rifles through Luke’s texts and stops at a specific page. “Luke’s search went cold on Pasaana, a desert planet in the Middian System.”

“I have an old friend who can help us,” Leia says. “You’ll meet him there.”

The General stands and starts making her way back to the main hangar, Rey in pursuit.

“How do we find him?” Rey asks.

“Don’t worry,” Leia smirks. “He’ll find you.”

* * *

Finn, Rose, Chewie and Poe absolutely insist on following her to Pasaana, and it’s all in Rey’s best interests not to disagree. She’s done going on missions alone. She’s done doing anything alone, for the rest of her life.

Besides, Poe has grown suspiciously attached to the Falcon that he’s allegedly unable to part with it for more than 24 hours.

“It’s the computer,” Finn whispers to her, as they load their cargo onto the ship.

Threepio is the only droid to follow them, since they’re going to a foreign planet inhabited by foreign aliens, Rey figures they’ll need a translator, or at least someone who knows their way around the galaxy and its people.

Threepio’s saying goodbye to R2, Poe’s rubbing BB-8’s round little body in an affectionate farewell, when Leia approaches Rey in front of the Falcon.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” she asks the General, and she’s met with a serene smile.

“I’ve had my adventures,” Leia says. “It’s time for you to have your own.”

She struggles against an urge to pour her heart out into Leia’s warm, kind hands, right now before she leaves, because she has a strange feeling she’ll never have this again. Leia standing firm and solid before her, her heart open and true like a mother she never had.

Instead, Rey dips her head. “There’s so much… I want to tell you.”

Leia pulls her in for an embrace, for what Rey feels like the last time.

“I know, Rey,” she says simply. “I know.”

* * *

The last time Kylo called his Knights in was back when he was still looking for Luke. They’d gone in search of a Jedi holocron, only to find out it was destroyed by the villagers that looked after it.

He’d arrived on the planet to find the town burning, and every villager slaughtered. Even the women and the children. Which he did not expect.

He’d sent them looking for other Force sensitives in the galaxy, to either recruit them and train them, or to kill them for being a potential threat to their rule. They hadn’t returned for over a year, and a small part of Kylo didn’t want to know about their progress.

Until now.

Kylo stands by a dimly lit work desk on an unnamed space station in the Outer Rim, watching the blacksmith, Albrekh, weld his helmet back together. And one by one, the six Knights emerge from the surrounding shadows like ghosts of his past.

“It’s been a long time, Master,” drawls Vicrul Ren, slamming the hilt of his long axe into the ground. “Or should I say… Supreme Leader.”

Kylo keeps his face flat and emotionless.

“We heard you found a Jedi,” Ushar Ren muses, tilting his masked head like a Loth cat about to pounce. “A girl.”

“Surprised to hear she’s still alive,” says Cardo Ren from directly behind him, and Kylo can feel his beady eyes boring into the back of his head. “Given that you’ve apparently met her. More than once.”

The Force swirls darkly around the group, and so does the tension. Kylo turns around to face them, smiling grimly.

“Indeed,” he says. “She’s more powerful than you think.”

“Yeah, powerful enough to kill Supreme Leader Snoke,” Ap’Lek Ren grouses, her tone almost sarcastic. “And defeat you in battle. Twice.”

Kylo draws himself to his full height. He’s taller than all of them.

“I am your Supreme Leader now,” he reminds them. “Which is why I called you here.”

“To watch your mask being remade?” scoffs Cardo. “Wanna tell us how you broke it in the first place?”

“Or tell us why the Jedi girl isn’t already dead,” hisses Trudgen Ren.

In two brief steps, Kylo advances on the smaller Knight, cornering him easily.

“Are you doubting my abilities, Trudgen?” Kylo asks. His voice is quiet but dripping with menace.

The Knights go silent. For a long moment, all that can be heard is the clanging of Albrekh’s hammer and the low buzzing of Sarrassian iron being applied.

“Supreme Leader Snoke’s death was a tragedy,” Kylo says, addressing all his Knights but keeping his eyes trained on Trudgen. “But if the Jedi turns to the Dark Side, it would not have been for nothing."

There’s a sharp thumping sound. Kuruk Ren, who never speaks, rams the edge of his blade into the ground twice, and then uses his hand to sign a question at Kylo.

“No,” Kylo says immediately, instinctively. “None of you are to touch the Jedi. Find her and report back to me.”

Kuruk does not react. He watches Kylo, as if sizing him up for the task, but he knows better than to doubt. He starts signing another question.

“Palpatine wants her alive,” Kylo tells him. “So we’ll take her to him. She’ll join us soon enough.”

“And if she doesn’t?” asks Vicrul. “What then?”

All eyes in the room are on Kylo. Including Albrekh’s.

Kylo turns back to the worktable to find his helmet fully mended, the crimson Sarrassian iron still smoking slightly. He picks it up, considering it for a moment.

He keeps his voice as steady as he possibly can. “Then we kill her.”

 _It’s for the best,_ he tells himself firmly, as he puts the helmet on and shuts his mind before an automatic flood of protesting thoughts can hit him. It’s much more convenient not to think about.

As he strides out, the rest of the Knights fall into step behind him.

“Great,” says Ap’Lek. “May I call first dibs?”

He resists the temptation to throw her into the nearest tank of melted Sarrassian iron. “No.”

* * *

The freshly remade mask, as Kylo soon learns, does not prevent his officers and troopers from staring at him, instead giving them a new reason to do so.

He also notes, with a prickle of satisfaction, that the reason is now leaning more towards fear rather than curiosity. He can live with that.

He storms through his flagship with his Knights in tow, the band reunited for the first time in almost a year. By the time they arrive in the designated conference room, the group of generals and lieutenants have already gathered around the sleek black table. Each and every one of them stiffen as the Supreme Leader and the Knights of Ren enter the room.

“You’re late,” one of them dares to state. Allegiant General Pryde. One of the highest ranking officers aside from Hux, who sits opposite him, staring determinedly at anywhere but the latecomers.

“We had business to attend to,” Kylo replies, and waves his hand.

Ushar Ren roughly discards Boolio’s severed head on the table with a thud, his transparent blood splattering.

The generals flinch.

“We have a spy in our midst,” Kylo says, circling around the officers to one end of the table.

“A spy?” General Pryde repeats.

He looks out through the viewport. The room is vibrating with tension. It’s so dense Kylo can hardly feel any of their thoughts in detail. But then one particularly loud one comes crashing through.

_It’s easier to read him without the mask…_

He does not turn around.

“I sense unease about my appearance, General Hux,” Kylo says.

There’s a drawn-out pause.

“About the mask?” asks Hux, and it’s painfully obvious how hard he’s trying to hide his fear. “No, sir. Well done.”

Lying, as usual. Kylo isn’t surprised, but that’s not a reason to suspect that Hux is the snivelling culprit. He hates the Resistance as much as Kylo does, if not more.

He presses on, to more urgent matters at hand.

“Palpatine will take command of our army soon,” he tells the room. “In sharing his technology, I’m sure most of you are aware, we will be the most powerful legion the galaxy has ever seen.”

“How do you know that we can trust this Emperor?” asks one admiral, skeptically. “Sounds like some insane cult to me.”

“Watch your tongue, admiral,” hisses General Pryde. “Without the Emperor’s technology we now have five times the magnitude of the failure that was Starkiller Base.” Then he makes deliberate eye contact with Hux from across the table. “As demonstrated by the weapons test we carried out on the Arkanis sector.”

Hux does not move, expression passive.

“What good will it do if we allow this Emperor a share of our army?” another admiral asks. “Is the First Order to become the old Galactic Empire?”

“Is that such a bad thing?” asks Ap’Lek Ren coolly.

“Our goal as the First Order is to crush the worlds that defy us,” Vicrul Ren says, addressing the room. “If that is what the Emperor wants, who are we to decline his knowledge?”

“What the Emperor wants?” Lieutenant Mitaka echoes, his voice quiet.

“Is he our new Supreme Leader, then?” the first admiral asks bluntly.

Kylo slams his fist on the table, and the admiral is yanked out of his chair and hits the ceiling with a shout.

“That’s a no, by the way,” Cardo Ren translates to the remaining terrified officers.

“The Emperor wants the Jedi girl,” Kylo says. “My Knights and I will go looking for her. The rest of you, start preparing the fleet and await further instruction.”

He sweeps out of the room, letting the admiral fall from his grasp. His body hits the ground with a sickening crack. The Knights kick him out of the way as they file after their master, leaving the officers in a stunned, petrified silence.

* * *

Ren is letting his own personal interests get the best of him.

The Supreme Leader’s actually gone mad, Hux observes, especially in recent days.

He grows more restless by the hour. He flinches and blinks non-stop during certain meetings. He goes into his training room, and there’s at least half an hour of a lightsaber slashing, before dead silence. Some of the officers say that if you listen closely, you can hear him talking to himself.

It’s usually hours before Ren re-emerges, when the scorch marks on the walls and training droids have stopped smoking, and he’s unsettlingly calmer (and strangely smug?) than before.

Only the Force knows what Ren does in there. Hux sure as _hell_ doesn’t want to know. He only hopes, one day, it will be Ren’s downfall.

The second Hux gets back to his quarters after the dreaded meeting, he seals the blast door twice. Maybe his own paranoia is getting the best of _him_ , but all for good reason.

He hurries over to his bunk, pulls the sheets aside and lifts the entire mattress. Underneath lies a computer system, wired into the electrical outlets of his quarters. He activates the system and it automatically connects to its receiver on the other end of the conversation. At the other end of the galaxy.

**\---**

****

**_TR:_ ** _Ren knows about me. Boolio is dead. The Emperor wants the Jedi girl. If you are with her, be on your guard._

**\---**

The words come to him as natural as anything, the warning spilling from his fingers and into the computer like instinct. He hits send and sits back, wringing his hands. He was so sure he would be caught earlier. Ren could sense his unease. Lucky for him, the damn oaf thought it was about his _appearance_. And his vanity allowed Hux to live another day.

Never in a million lightyears did he think he’d be doing this. A kriffing mutiny. If he’d gone back in time and told Starkiller-Hux that he’d be reporting to Poe Dameron, of all people, he probably would have shot himself in the chest and laughed.

Armitage Hux. _Rebel_.

Too bad he doesn’t laugh a lot nowadays. Especially not since they’d destroyed Arkanis.

Hux shoves away the wave of regret crashing into him and glares at the screen of the computer.

The cursor beside **_M-FALC_** isn’t moving. What if they don’t receive it in time? What if something happened? He can’t remember when he allowed himself to care this much, but it’s the only way to avenge—

The computer beeps the arrival of a response. Finally.

****

**_\---_ **

****

**_M-FALC:_ ** _okay, thats a heck ton of brand new information. when you say ren knows about you, does he mean he knows your identity?_

****

**_\---_ **

Hux rolls his eyes at the unspoken question. He can practically hear Dameron saying it in his head, his voice urgent and eager - “Does that mean we can come get you?”

He’s been asking for weeks and weeks. Hux doesn’t understand his concern, and has to constantly tell Dameron to quit prodding him about it, but it pleases him somehow. It gives him the impression that he’s worth something.

But then, he reminds himself, part of the reason why he’s doing it in the first place is because he knows he’s not worth bantha shit. He has exactly nothing left to lose.

Which is why he can’t go around getting attached to war criminals and cocky Resistance pilots, no matter how much they seem to care.

**_\---_ **

****

**_TR:_ ** _Don’t get excited, flyboy. I’m not compromised yet. Stick to your mission and I’ll stick to mine._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _rey’s with me, by the way. we’ll be careful. do you know where ren’s headed first?_

**_TR:_ ** _He failed to mention it during the meeting, but I can try to draw him away from whichever system you are._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _we’re headed to pasaana. some desert planet in the middian system_

**_TR:_ ** _Duly noted._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _see what i did there? you could be some double agent working for ren but i told you anyway. not sure if you heard of it, but it’s called trust. u should try it sometime_

**_TR:_ ** _I actually would not have told you any of what I’d just told you if I didn’t trust you. Besides, if I knew any better, I’d say you were getting attached._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _attached? me? never._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _also, when can we come get u???_

****

**_\---_ **

Hux hates him. He hates how frequent their conversations are getting, hates how Dameron found the secrets to making his lips quirk up uncontrollably, hates how Dameron is becoming more than just a means to escape certain death by Force-choke.

Hux hates him for threatening to give him something to lose.

**\---**

****

**_TR:_ ** _I’m not sure if you’ve heard of it, but it’s called anonymity. Perhaps you should try it sometime._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _u literally know who i am_

**_TR:_ ** _Do I really, Dameron?_

****

**_\---_ **

Hux deactivates the computer without waiting for a reply, and then gets back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl i was considering putting that last hux pov bit in the next chapter then i was like  
> 1\. idk when im gonna get that next chapter done  
> 2\. half of u who read this are thirsty as all fuck for hux content (myself included)  
> 3\. i might as well give u a load of gingerpilot now because there's a big reylo scene in the next one
> 
> also joni here's a lil crack tidbit for u (its an inside joke between us lol) -
> 
> poe: can i come get u plsplsplspls  
> hux: is that love i smell  
> hux: i sniff it with my nostrils  
> hux: god it smells bad  
> poe:  
> hux:  
> hux: give me more


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today's sneak peeks, but in the form of news headlines:  
> \- horny couple does arm touching and necklace snatching in public  
> \- angry tourist yells at cloud  
> \- man has crippling fear of big snake, begs friends to shoot it  
> \- lando calrissian spotted roaming dunes of pasaana, dressed in ugly coat
> 
> on second thought these are sounding a lot more like clickbait titles,,, well take it how u will i GUESS
> 
> enjoy!!

Pasaana is cool, both in terms of climate and culture. Rey thinks it is the best form of Jakku that could have been possible.

According to Threepio, the natives, the Aki-Aki, are celebrating the Festival of the Ancestors. Explains the rich colour and diversity and rhythmic dancing that’s being carried out throughout a large expanse of the desert plains.

The smell of exotic dried foods, harvested fruits and smoked critters hanging from various racks wafting through the air causes Chewie to rumble longingly at the sight of them.

Rey pats him on the arm. “Not now Chewie.”

Chewie barks a short, reluctant protest.

“I know,” agrees Rey. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Finn pushes past her, grumbling. “And I’ve never seen so few Wayfinders.”

“Remember what our spy said. Ren’s looking for us, and places like this are crawling with random patrols,” Poe warns them. “Watch your six.”

“And keep your heads down,” Rose hisses from the front. “Chewie!”

The poor Wookiee ducks his overgrown body to human level.

They pass by countless colourful stalls and kites and lanterns and hordes of frolicking Aki-Aki, the pounding of tribal drums ricocheting in their ears.

Poe stops for a minute to ask one of the locals for directions. Rey takes the time to do another visual sweep of the area when her eye is caught on a puppet show not far away. Its audience comprises of over a dozen children, younglings of the Aki-Aki, watching the puppets with intent and delight.

She can’t stop a wistful smile from breaking out on her face.

She’d never had such a childhood. Blissful, happy, free. On Jakku, all anyone cared about at all was survival. The whole desert was practically a graveyard, silent and empty and lonely beyond measure. No one really lived. They just… survived. It had been two distinctly separate things.

 _There’s no way,_ she thinks stoutly, still watching the giggling audience, _I am ever letting my own children lead a life any less than this._

She feels a gentle tug on her sash, and turns around to see a small Aki-Aki looking expectantly up at her.

The little alien says something in the local dialect. Rey crouches down to her level as Threepio sidles up behind her.

“She is saying ‘welcome’!” the droid translates. “Her name is Nyambee Geema.”

Nyambee hangs a beaded necklace around her neck. Rey smiles.

“I’m Rey,” she replies.

Nyambee says something else.

“She would be honoured to know your family name too,” Threepio relays.

Rey’s heart sinks slightly. It must be part of their culture to be honoured with a family name.

She keeps her smile steady as she says, “I don’t have one. I’m just Rey.”

And then that’s when she senses him. For the second time in a day. Rey almost groans out loud. He has _impeccable_ timing.

“I’ll be right back,” she tells Threepio, before standing up and losing herself in the crowds.

Kylo appears to her, as usual, his cape unmoving in the blowing desert wind. To her surprise, he has his mask back on, held together by some sort of glowing red adhesive.

“Hiding again?” she asks.

“I’m not the one who’s hiding.” His voice is flat, mechanical through the mask.

“If you’re waiting for me to tell you where I am, it’s going to be a long day,” she says defiantly.

“Indeed,” is all he says.

They start circling each other, slowly. She glimpses a telltale shimmer of white just over his head, that indicates he’s in his quarters.

They’d begun to see flashes of each other’s surroundings as well. Under normal circumstances, back at base, she was safe. There were millions of forest planets in the galaxy. But this is her first mission in almost a year, and she’s guessing not many planets celebrate the Festival of the Ancestors. She needs to be careful.

“I offered you my hand once,” he says. “You wanted to take it. Why didn’t you?”

“Because you haven’t killed me yet,” she points out. “After all this time.”

They’re getting closer and closer to each other. The circle they’re walking in spirals tighter. Kylo stops, suddenly. He tilts his head, and it’s almost teasing.

“If you’re waiting for Ben Solo to return,” he says, softly, almost amused. “It’s going to be a long day.”

“Lucky for you,” she says. “I know all about waiting.”

“Are you going to count the days,” he taunts. “Just like when your parents left you?”

Now, that strikes a nerve in her. What the hell is up with people and lineage?

She advances quickly, pointing a forceful, accusing finger at him. “I don’t want to hear another word about my parents!”

She’s so worked up she doesn’t even comprehend Kylo grabbing her wrist and pushing it away from his face. Instead of breaking free, she uses her wrist to drag him closer. So he knows she’s not playing around.

“I’m done with that story, done living in denial,” she says scathingly. “Let the past die, isn’t that right?”

They’re inches apart now. She can hear his breath from inside the mask. He sounds like a machine, cogs whirring. She hates it. The gloved grip on her wrist loosens, and at first she thinks he’s about to let go.

But he only starts skimming his fingers further up her arm. Slowly and leisurely, like he’s indulging her, or maybe she’s indulging him. The lines begin to blur.

“Sometimes,” he murmurs. “You can’t escape the past. Like I can’t.”

The contact sends goosebumps across the nape of her neck. She swallows a sigh that threatens to escape from her throat.

“We’ll see,” she whispers back at him instead.

Her hand is now on his wrist, but she hasn’t the faintest clue whether it’s to pull him away or keep him there. His thumb swipes over the leather strap she’d used to cover up the scar from the throne room a year ago, toying with the material, then continues travelling up, up, and onto her shoulder.

If he weren’t wearing the damn helmet she’d be looking directly at his lips. He knows this. She feels that he knows this. She wants to rip the cursed thing off his head, and then throw it far behind into the dunes. To watch those lips move for herself. To see that familiar twitch of his lower eyelid she knows he’s sure to have. To call him a kriffing _coward_ for even daring to hide that from her.

His hand finally comes to a stop at her collarbone, delicately trailing down the beads of her new necklace.

“I’ll see you soon, Rey,” he says.

She realises what he’s up to a second too late. “Wait!”

In one swift motion, Kylo rips the necklace off, and vanishes.

_Son of a bantha._

* * *

Rey races back to her friends as fast as her feet can carry her. How could she be so careless, falling for his stupid touch and his stupid big hands and his stupid smooth gloves… 

“We need to go!” She grabs Finn’s arm.

“What? Why?” Poe asks in alarm.

“Kylo’s coming.”

“Rey, how do you know?” Finn says urgently.

Her eyes dart to Rose, whose own widen in realisation.

“The Force told me,” Rey says quickly.

Finn frowns. “The Force can talk?”

“I think what she means is, we need to go.” Rose takes Finn by the other arm and they frogmarch him away.

“Falcon’s this way!” Poe leads them.

“Hold it right there!” A stormtrooper suddenly emerges from behind a stall, aiming his blaster at them. “Hands up where I can see them!”

They’re all so stunned they bump into each other. Rey doesn’t even have time to pull out her saber.

“We’re doomed!” cries Threepio.

“I’ve spotted six fugitives—” The trooper barely gets the sentence out when an arrow whizzes past them and hits him dead in the eye.

The trooper collapses, and all of them whip around. There’s a masked man, draped in a long, lumpy trench coat and a crossbow in hand.

“Follow me,” says the man, his voice filtered through the helmet.

All of them exchange a look, coming to a silent mutual agreement, before following the stranger.

He leads them across the sea of dancing Aki-Aki and into a slow-moving land transport that reminds Rey of a smaller Jawa Sandcrawler.

They all pile into the transport. The man tells the driver something in an incomprehensible language, and turns back to face them.

“Who are you?” asks Rose.

“Leia sent me a transmission,” the man says.

“Of course,” Rey realises. “You’re the ally she talked about.”

“How did you find us?” asks Poe.

The man pulls his helmet off.

“Wookiees stand out in a crowd,” grins Lando Calrissian.

Chewie lets out a wail of delight and wraps Lando in his big, furry arms. Lando pats him on the back, chuckling. “I missed you too, old buddy!”

“General Calrissian, what an honour to see you again!” Threepio seems just as delighted.

“How you doing, Threepio?” Lando winks over Chewie’s elbow.

“It’s an honour to meet you, General,” Poe says, beaming, as Chewie pulls back.

“Thank you for agreeing to help us,” Finn says, sincerely.

“Anything for the Princess,” Lando nods, gravely. “It’s the least I could do, now that the Emperor’s returned.”

“We’re looking for the Sith Wayfinder. We need to get to Exegol,” Rey tells him. “Luke came searching for it years before.”

“I know,” admits Lando. “I was with him.”

“Did you ever manage to find it?” Rose asks.

“No,” says Lando, pressing a button on his wristwatch. It emits a hologram of the Wayfinder, then changes to the image of a humanoid alien. “But we went in search of someone who did. We tracked down a Sith loyalist named Ochi of Bestoon, here to this desert. His ship remains here, which means he’s never left, but Ochi himself? Vanished.”

“Where was he last seen?” Rey asks.

“The Ikledu Wastes,” says Lando. “Which is where I’m taking you now.”

The transport speeds up and out of the valley where the Festival of the Ancestors is being held, and out into the open dunes.

“We’re almost there,” says Lando, peering out of the grilled windows. He turns back to the group. “I should warn you, though. Stay off the black sand.”

“What’s in the black sand?” asks Poe.

“You, if you’re not careful,” Lando replies, raising his eyebrows. “They’re sinking fields, and they’re all over the place, so be careful not to walk in them. They’re usually home to Vexis. A serpent-like creature that can swallow you whole.”

“Great,” Finn says weakly. “I hate snakes.”

The transport rumbles to a stop.

“Looks like we’re here,” Lando says, and opens the hatch for them to exit.

“General, we can’t thank you enough,” Poe says.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Lando smirks. “Good luck, though. I hope you find what you’re lookin’ for.”

Poe returns a wry smile and hops out, Finn and Rose close behind. Chewie gives his old friend one last hug before following suit. Rey’s the last one to leave.

“Good luck to you too,” she says, and means it. “Leia needs as many allies as she can find. That includes you.”

“My flying days are long gone,” Lando sighs. “But do me a favour. Give Leia my love.”

“You should give it to her yourself,” Rey tells him firmly. “Thank you.”

And she exits the transport.

* * *

They search and search until all of them grow agitated.

“There’s nothing but sand and more sand out here!” Poe shouts to the sky in frustration. “I hate sand!”

“The First Order’s probably on their way here right now,” Rose says, casting an anxious side eye at Rey, who looks guilty but determined. “If not, they already are.”

“Come on, he can’t have just disappeared into nowhere,” Rey presses on. “People don’t do that.”

“Well, apparently this guy can,” Poe grumbles.

“I agree with Master Poe,” Threepio says, “I suggest we head back, while we still can.”

“No, no, wait,” Rey holds out her hand to stop him.

She walks over to the nearest patch of black sand.

“Rey, what are you—”

“Lando said Ochi disappeared,” Rey says slowly. “What if he didn’t mean to?”

“What?” Finn says.

She steps closer to the black sand.

“Rey, don’t!” Rose shouts.

Rey steps fully in it, and immediately the sand shifts and she starts sinking.

“No!” Poe yells. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You’re in a desert surrounded by sinking fields!” Rey shouts back, the sand is up to her waist now. “How else would you disappear?”

“This is madness!” cries Threepio.

“I agree,” says Finn. He turns to Poe. “I say we get her out of there.”

“If there’s nothing down here, I’ll get out myself!” Rey says, and just as the ground swallows her whole, “We’re wasting time!”

“She’s insane,” Finn gasps, shaking his head.

“No,” Poe says, slightly dazed. “She’s right.”

Rose and Finn turn to stare at him. Chewie warbles reluctantly.

A minute later, they’re _all_ in the sand, sinking until they land in a pitch black underground tunnel. Rey’s already up and moving, searching the winding paths with her lightsaber as her light source.

“You know there are snakes down here, right?” Finn keeps saying. “Didn’t you hear what Lando said?”

“Yes, Master Finn,” Threepio confirms. “Judging by the diameter of these tunnels, the Vexis that lives here must be no less than twenty feet—”

“He doesn’t want to know, Threepio,” Rose cuts him off quickly.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Finn whimpers, following Poe and Rey further down into the darkness.

The tunnels seem to stretch and wind around for miles, forking and twisting and somehow they manage to stumble upon an old abandoned speeder.

“There’s a symbol on the front,” Rey observes, holding her saber closer to take a better look.

“That symbol seems to be the old insignia of the Sith,” notes Threepio.

“Sith?” Poe squints. “Maybe this belonged to Ochi.”

Rey turns around, facing a clearing, and her face pales. “It did.”

The group turns to look, and at the centre of the dim clearing, half buried in sand, is a pile of—

“Bones,” Rose looks as if she’s about to throw up. “I don’t like bones.”

“Do you see anything?” Poe asks.

“Yeah,” Rey squints, detecting a silvery glint in the sand only a scavenger’s eye could pick up.

She picks up the object and dusts it off. It’s a dagger.

“There’s writing on it,” Rose points out.

“Perhaps I could read it,” Threepio offers.

Rey hands the dagger to him.

“Oh, the location of the Wayfinder has been inscribed upon this dagger!” the droid exclaims. “It’s the clue that Master Luke was looking for.”

“Okay,” says Finn anxiously. “So where’s the Wayfinder?”

“I am afraid I cannot tell you,” says Threepio apologetically.

“Twenty point three gazillion languages, and you can’t read that?” asks Poe in disbelief.

“Oh, I read it, sir. I know exactly where the Wayfinder is,” Threepio explains. “Unfortunately, it was written in the runic language of the Sith. I am mechanically incapable of speaking translations from Sith. I believe the rule was passed by the Senate years ago—”

A deep hissing sound echoes suddenly throughout the cave.

Something dark and scaly and massive uncoils itself from the shadows behind Threepio and advances on them.

Finn screams, backing away into Poe.

Rey drops the dagger and immediately shields her friends, lightsaber raised.

The Vexis. It rears its head, unhinging its jaw, showing off four razor sharp fangs.

“Serpent! Serpent!” Threepio cries, shuffling backwards as fast as he can.

Finn, Rose and Poe pull out their blasters.

The Vexis does not attack. It remains still, growling and hissing, the rest of its coils wrapped protectively beneath itself.

Rey looks down at it. And pauses.

It’s injured. It’s bleeding. She reaches out, and she can sense its pain through the Force.

She uses the Force to gently push her friends’ blasters down.

“Rey,” Finn says, agitated. “What are you doing?”

“Shh,” she says. “Just trust me.”

Cautiously, she starts approaching the massive creature. It hisses, viciously, unhinging its jaw, venomous saliva dripping from its fangs.

“I’m gonna blast it,” says Poe.

“Please blast it,” Finn begs, his own blaster hand quaking.

“No one blast it!” Rose hushes.

Rey steps closer, and closer, eventually stepping over and into its coils. The Vexis ducks its head down to Rey’s height, still defensive. Rey slowly gets down on her knees, next to the gashes in its body, and places a tentative hand over it.

She closes her eyes. Feels the Force surrounding them. The _balance_.

The darkness of the tunnels. The light from her saber, from Poe’s flashlight. The warmth from her body. The coldness of the serpent’s. The death from Ochi’s bones, rotting parts of the speeder, and how it feeds new life by acting as the Vexis’ nest. The life from everyone around her, Finn, Poe, Rose, Chewie. The life from within herself, burning brighter and stronger, pulsing from her very soul. Life from the bond between her and Kylo.

She takes it, and channels some of the energy into the Vexis’ bleeding body. She feels the flesh beneath her fingers start rapidly knitting back together, until all that's left is hard scales and faint scar tissue.

No one speaks. The Vexis croons, and Rey opens her eyes to be met with six grateful ones, blinking at her slowly.

The serpent unwinds itself from around her and slithers off, away down its tunnels, right past Rose, Chewie, Poe, and Finn, who lets out a squeak as it nicks his shoulder.

Its departure reveals a cave opening, daylight spilling through.

"Alright," Poe grins. “That was awesome.”

“And you wanted to blast it,” Rey quips back, but smiling nonetheless.

“I want to do a lot of stupid things,” Poe says, and climbs past her to peer out the cave opening. “You just happened to outdo me this time.”

“I still think we should have blasted it,” Finn says, as they all start climbing out of the tunnels.

“When it was already injured?” Rose asks, quirking an eyebrow. “That’s not fair.”

“Oh, yeah, try getting dragged through a ship by a Rathar’s tentacle,” Finn says defiantly. “You’ll never see snakes or worms the same way again.”

“That was a whole year ago!” Rey protests.

“Not in my mind,” Finn shudders.

Chewie is the last to exit the tunnels. On his way out, he picks up the Sith dagger, considers it, and then stuffs it in his bag before hauling himself into the light after the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry guys i suffered while writing this because i just wanna get to the GOOD PARTS and pasaana was NOT one of it. i felt like was stuck in the tunnels with them I HATE WRITING TRIO CONTENT KHFDJHFDJK I JUST WANNA SKIP IT AND GET TO THE ROMANTIC PARTS BUT I TOLD MYSELF I'D WRITE THE WHOLE MOVIE SO SIT TIGHT AND WE'LL GET THERE
> 
> sorry for the lack of gingerpilot and kylo content i just didnt think it was very relevant here (YOU'LL GET A HECK TON OF KYLO IN THE SECOND HALF I PROMISE. THE STORY'S ABOUT HIM ANYWAY. and gingerpilot fans dont worry u get Worried Boyfriend!Hux in the next chapter hehe)
> 
> besides the boring bits only make the Good Parts even Gooder if u get what im sayin wink wonk
> 
> thanks joni for beta reading my horny necklace ripping scene and validating my sexual tension. u the queen
> 
> feel free to talk to me @shruggyben on tumblr maybe we can exchange/discuss ideas and concepts!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things to look forward to in this (slightly shorter) chapter:  
> \- threepio is treated with some RESPECT for once  
> \- the knights of ren bitch about kylo and his giRLfRiEnD  
> \- hux is Scared for his stoopid rebel boyfriend  
> \- rose pov!! she stabs someone with her shock prod uwu

If the First Order had arrived on the planet, it’s lucky they hadn’t found the Falcon yet. The Vexis’ tunnels had led them straight back to the cliff they'd landed on, just overlooking the Festival, and as far as they can tell, it’s definitely not crawling with stormtroopers.

“What the hell are we gonna do now?” Poe says, irritated as he stomps up the ramp of the Falcon. “We can’t read that blade, or at least Threepio can’t, so unless we find a way to do that we’re down to nothing.”

“Threepio, you said the problem was mechanical,” Rose inquires. “That it had to do with your programming, right?”

“That is correct,” confirms Threepio. “But if you take into account the law which forbids me to translate it, I daresay the problem may also be political.”

Rose turns to the group. “I can try to undo his programming, but I don’t know if it’ll work, I don’t know what it’ll do—”

“Pardon me!” Threepio says, distressed. “‘What it’ll do’?”

“And I don’t know how long it’s gonna take me,” she finishes, already pulling out her toolbox from underneath the dejarik board.

“As long as there’s a chance,” says Finn. “Do it.”

“Don’t worry,” Rey lays a reassuring hand on Threepio’s golden shoulder. “If the consequences are too much for you, we’ll find another way.”

“Thank you, Master Rey,” Threepio replies, comically relieved. “I appreciate that very much.”

“We should probably get moving!” Poe calls from the cockpit.

Chewie growls something and gestures to the open ramp. The compressor’s down and parts of it need to be fixed from the outside.

“Yeah, good idea,” says Rey. “I’ll come with you.”

* * *

The Night Buzzard lands on a rocky outcropping near the Forbidden Valley of Pasaana.

“Looks like we’re early,” notes Ushar Ren, as he disembarks the ship.

“What did you expect?” Ap’Lek strides past him. “The Supreme Leader’s bringing half his fleet. Of course they’re trailing behind.”

“Don’t see a reason why he’d need half his fleet,” scoffs Trudgen.

Kuruk rams his blade into the ground and signs a remark. All the Knights, except for Vicrul, start cackling.

“Oh, please,” Cardo wheezes. “If Master Ren wanted to impress the girl, he’d probably just take his shirt off.”

“I bet you my next bounty he already has,” Ap’Lek sneers. “With that little Force bond of his.”

Vicrul nudges her sharply in the shoulder with the blade of his axe.

“Gonna rat us out, brother?” Trudgen asks. “You know it’s true.”

“Just stick to the mission,” Vicrul says. “Can any of you sense the girl?”

They pause for a minute, circling the area they landed in, sensing any significant presence in the Force.

“Nothing,” says Ushar.

“We should split up,” Ap’Lek says. “Cover more ground.”

“She’s right,” Vicrul says. “Trudgen, you’re with me.”

They head off towards the Ikledu Wastelands.

“Kuruk,” Cardo gestures towards the mountains. “What do you say to another round of Hunter?”

Kuruk brandishes his blade and follows Cardo with enthusiasm.

“Why am I always stuck with the boring one?” Ap’Lek shoves Ushar aside as she tramples through the sand, towards the Festival of the Ancestors, blaring in the distance.

“Kriff you, Ap’Lek,” Ushar growls. “If we’re the ones who end up finding them, you’ll owe me your next bounty.”

That’s how, minutes later, Ap’Lek and Ushar are hidden behind a large scatter of rocks, watching the Jedi girl and the Wookiee descend from the the Millennium Falcon, and tweaking the smoking hyperdrive.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Ap’Lek groans as she slaps her latest bounty puck in Ushar’s gloved hand.

“Let’s go get them,” Ushar makes to stand up from their hiding position, but Ap’Lek drags him violently back down.

“Hey! What—”

“Not yet,” Ap’Lek hisses.

“Are you stupid?” Ushar gapes. “We can take them both, and the fools inside.”

“Didn’t you hear Master Ren?” Ap’Lek says. “The girl is more powerful than we think.”

Ushar turns back to watch the Falcon. The compressor is smoking worse than before. The Jedi starts coughing wildly and batting the fumes from her face.

“Doesn’t seem very powerful to me,” Ushar says.

“Can you feel it?” asks Ap’Lek suddenly. “The Jedi. There is light, but the Dark Side is growing stronger in her. Perhaps Master Ren is right. She can be turned.”

“She will never be one of us,” Ushar says bitterly.

“No,” says Ap’Lek, her tone grim. “But maybe there’s a reason why he chose to bring her a fleet instead of simply taking off his shirt.”

Ushar senses something new in the Force. A second presence. He turns around. He nudges Ap’Lek, and she turns too.

“Speak of the devil,” he mutters.

At the other end of the sandy plains, the TIE Whisperer has landed. Kylo Ren strides from it, heading straight towards the Falcon.

Ren’s presence and the Jedi girl’s presence in the Force immediately explodes into a supernova of energy, felt so fiercely within the two Knights that they’re stunned for a moment. There’s no way their fellow Knights in the mountains and the Wastes couldn’t feel it too. The closer Ren gets to the Jedi, the stronger the energy grows.

The pull towards each other grows so evident that the Jedi promptly abandons her work on the ship and starts heading down the rocks towards Ren.

“I never knew… their bond was so…” Ap’Lek whispers, after finding her voice again. She’s clearly mesmerised.

Ushar grabs her arm and hauls her up.

“Snap out of it,” he says, and then gestures at the lone Wookiee by the Falcon. “We’ll take him first, and then the rest.”

* * *

“It’s not working!” Poe’s voice comes echoing from the pilot’s seat.

Chewie warbles something from outside.

“He said try again!” Rose calls from the dejarik table, where Threepio is sitting.

She’d opened up the back of the droid’s head, fiddling with wires and circuits of the droid’s programming.

There’s a rumble of the engine, indicating that Poe had tried, and failed, to fire up the Falcon.

“Will we ever get off this desolate place?” Threepio says miserably.

“We will soon,” Rose says. “Have faith.”

“I’ve certainly tried,” Threepio says, and it’s the equivalent of a droid sigh.

“It’s still not working!” Poe says again.

There’s no response.

“Chewie!” Rose calls. She peers down the ramp and frowns.

“Stay here, I’ll go check on them,” she tells Threepio.

Rose makes her way down the ramp and makes a half-round around the Falcon. Both Rey and Chewie are nowhere to be seen. The compressor is still smoking, if not even worse than before.

_Where the hell are they?_

* * *

Poe strides into the main quarters of the ship, to find Finn trying to fix the hyperdrive in the vents below and Threepio sitting abandoned on the dejarik table.

“Where’s Rose?” he asks.

Finn pokes his head out of the vents. “Went outside to help Rey and Chewie, I think.”

“Right,” he sighs, and heads straight for the computer.

Finn rolls his eyes. “You know, you really got a problem with that thing.”

“What problem?” asks Poe absent-mindedly, as he activates the system. “No, I don’t.”

He’d expected at least a message. Or maybe none at all. But he definitely wasn’t expecting this.

His blood runs cold.

**_\---_ **

****

**_TR:_ ** _DAMERON YOU MOOF MILKER WHAT HAVE YOU DONE_

**_TR:_ ** _REN KNOWS WHERE YOU ARE_

**_TR:_ ** _HE’S BRINGING HALF OUR FLEET, AS WELL AS HIS KNIGHTS_

**_TR:_ ** _AND THEY CAN SENSE THE GIRL_

**_TR:_ ** _GET OUT OF THAT SYSTEM NOW_

**_TR:_ ** _DAMERON DO YOU COPY  
_

**_TR:_ ** _DAMERON_

**_TR:_ ** _FOR KRIFF’S SAKE GET ONLINE RIGHT NOW  
_

**_TR:_ ** _Dameron I swear if you get caught I will make sure you die by MY HAND_

**_TR:_ ** _We’ve just arrived at the Middian System. Please tell me you’re not still here._

* * *

_Maybe they’d gone back to the Aki-Aki village to search for parts,_ Rose thinks. That would make sense.

Then, a shift in the sands. A twitch of a shadow behind her.

Rose tenses, but doesn’t turn around. Her hand slips slowly to the shock prod at her waist.

She whips around and aims the prod at the attacker, but she’s lifted off the ground by an unseen force and slammed into the side of the ship. She slumps to the ground, her body aching from the impact.

“Hey!”

As Rose’s vision drifts in and out of focus, she hears Finn’s voice.

“Leave her the _kriff_ alone.”

“Oh,” gasps Ushar Ren. “The traitor, I presume. FN-2187.”

“Captain Killer,” snarls Ap'Lek, emerging from the other side of the ship.

“My name is Finn,” says Finn savagely. “Where’s your master? We know he’s here.”

“Where else would he be?” Ushar snaps in a tone that could be described as complaining. “With his girlfriend, the Jedi. Makes no time for us.”

“He’s not- they’re not—” Finn splutters, and Rose almost laughs. The Knight isn’t completely wrong there.

She shifts her head in the sand, trying to look past the Falcon to catch a glimpse of Rey, but instead, through her spinning vision, she sees two grey blurs on the desert, merging into one, and then separating, and she comes to the conclusion that it’s a First Order transport ship that she can’t see clearly.

She pushes herself up, as Finn and the two Knights continue sniping at each other, and shakes her head to clear her vision.

Now she can see a tall brown figure being led into the transport, obviously cuffed, with two First Order shock troopers behind him, shockstaffs raised. _Chewie._

She turns her attention back to Ushar Ren, the nearest Knight, absorbed in conversation with Finn. And she sees her own shock prod lying a few feet away.

Rose doesn’t even hesitate. Force users can sense hesitation anyway.

She grabs the prod, throws herself forward, and sticks it in Ushar's back as hard as she can.

The Knight’s body convulses and then falls to the ground, unconscious.

Ap'Lek Ren lets out a cry of rage and sends Rose flying again. She hits the Falcon, twice as hard as before.

She vaguely registers Finn firing rapidly at Ap'Lek, who deflects the blaster bolts with her twin blades. Then Poe leaping from the top of the Falcon, kicking the Knight square in the chest and right over the edge of the cliff. The Knight falls out of sight with a yell of surprise.

“Rose,” she hears Poe’s voice strange and faraway, and suddenly she feels Finn’s arms around her, helping her sit up. “Rose, can you hear me?”

She nods groggily and gestures in the direction she saw Chewie get taken.

“Choo-weeee…” she groans, before promptly passing out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case it went over your head, "captain killer" is in reference to phasma. the knights of ren loved phasma and thats the tea. she was their lesbian wine aunt.
> 
> also as u can tell,,, kijimi is not a part of my revised tros plot. because first of all, rose was literally right there with her badass mechanic skills, and second of all, as much as i loved zorri, she was a plot device for poe - she gave him the medallion so they could get access to kylo's ship and to show that he's hetero (oscar isaac was NOT having it lmaoooo) AND to show that he was a mfing spice runner??? which was??? totally ooc because his parents were both pilots under leia soooooo
> 
> anyways we dont need any of that now ^^ because we have hux :))
> 
> dont fuckin add new characters if u aint gonna do jack shit with the ones u already have, JJ ABRAMS.
> 
> also, prepare urselves for another big reylo scene in the next one. guess which dumbass force dyad couple MEETS IN THE FLESH FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A YEAR UHUHUHUHUUU


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things to look forward to this chapter:  
> \- ANOTHER BIG REYLO SCENE  
> \- we delve deeper into the plot  
> \- another hux pov, more worried bf hux

Kylo feels her before he sees her. Like he always does. Even on a desolate chunk of sand like Pasaana. He’s drawn to her, and she’s drawn to him, like they’re the starships to each other’s black holes.

It should feel natural. It should feel like destiny. It should feel like the Jedi Killer facing down the last Jedi.

Instead it feels like the man who offered his hand to the woman he'd fallen in love with, about to do it all over again. And again. And again.

It feels like the Jedi Killer walking towards his failure.

And everything is amplified, because this is the first time in a whole year they’ve seen each other outside the bond. In the flesh. The first time since she’d left him on the Supremacy, falling apart around him.

But this time, she won’t leave him. The Force can’t take her from him again. He won't let it.

He keeps moving forward.

His heart is pounding in his throat.

* * *

Rey feels him before she sees him. Like she always does. She’s drawn to him, and he’s drawn to her, like people are drawn to water on Jakku. Even if she’s halfway across the galaxy or even if they’re just ten feet apart.

Like she is now.

His mask is gone again. (Did he do that for her?)

His hair is blowing in the wind, as is his cape. He looks like some kind of prince. (If Leia’s a princess, that technically makes him the Prince of Alderaan. If Alderaan still existed.)

His scar is faded, but still somewhat prominent in the warm desert light. (To this day, she does not regret giving it to him.)

She thinks, there is nothing in the galaxy that’s more solid, more real, more _alive_ than he is right now.

Everything, from the sand beneath their boots to the emotions in their hearts, the fear, the loneliness, the longing, all radiating acutely down the bond. It’s so much stronger up close, it’s almost too much to bear. But she does.

She keeps moving forward. 

Her heart is pounding in her throat.

* * *

She watches him and he watches her. Ten feet apart, lips slightly parted.

“Came to return my necklace?” she asks at last.

“It’s on my flagship,” he says. “You’ll have to come back with me if you want it.”

Her fists tighten. He can tell she’s itching to draw her saber.

“And if I refuse?” she asks.

“I’ll keep it for myself.” His voice teeters on the brink of sarcasm. “It’s a nice necklace.”

“You’re despicable,” Her eyes narrow. “I know why you’re here.”

“Then you know I have something to say,” Kylo says. “And you know you’ll want to listen.”

“Well, I have something to say,” Rey growls. She reaches for her saber. “Tell your precious Emperor that he can—”

“REY!”

She whips around, and Kylo follows her gaze. The traitor, FN-2187, is running across the desert towards them like some kind of delirious womp rat.

Kylo’s hand instinctively rises to immobilise him with the Force, but the traitor begins gesturing frantically at one of the First Order’s departing transports.

“Rey!” the traitor screams. “They took him! They took Chewie!”

 _Chewie_. He feels a pang of unwarranted nostalgia, but shoves it deep down.

So his Knights had managed to capture the Wookiee. Which means they could take orders, which means Ch- the Wookiee is still alive.

Which also means when he gets back to his flagship, he’ll have to face him. For the first time since… since Starkiller Base.

His next thought is that Rey will _definitely_ have to come back with him now, but it dies the second Rey throws her hand up. Reaching for the transport.

The ship freezes in mid-air, thrusters blazing.

He can see the muscles in her arm tensing, flexing, fingers outstretched, and the transport starts sinking back towards the ground. He can feel her power streaming from her fingertips, the Force beginning to shroud her presence with something dark and horribly familiar. 

He considers grabbing hold of the ship with the Force and tugging on the other end, but he remembers what happened the last time they tried. He needs his prisoner alive.

“Let go,” he tells her instead. 

“I’m done with you telling me—” she snarls, dragging the ship even further down. “—to let go of things.”

He takes another step towards her, and another, and another. The last thing he wants right now is to make her angry. He's seen this happen before, he realises. In a memory. Just not his own.

"The Emperor showed me," he says, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. "He showed me this is what you'd become. You don't know your own power."

Her eyes flicker from the ship to his face and then back again.

"You're lying," she says.

"I've never lied to you," he tells her, and it's the truth.

She can feel it too, but she does not respond. The transport strains harder against her pull, but she does not relent. Kylo takes another step.

* * *

He’s kriffing mad. He’s mad if he thinks being soft with her will surrender Chewie to him. He’s exactly what he says he is. A monster.

“Rey,” his voice holds a suspicious edge of panic now. “We’ll figure this out.”

“On your terms?” she hisses, not looking at him, concentrating on the transport. Its thrusters are at full power. “I don’t think so.”

“You’ve done this before,” he says. “Can’t you see it?”

“Shut up,” she grits her teeth.

“Rey. Let go,” he says again. Something clicks. “ _Let go._ ”

_Suddenly the sand is coarser, the heat is worse, and the ship she’s holding back is smaller, scrappier. She’s back on Jakku._

_One arm is held in a vice-like grip, huge grimy fingers she can only recognise as Unkar Plutt’s._

_“What are you doing?” he says, frantic. “Let go of it, girl!”_

_The other is outstretched, bindings gone, small and childlike, fingers curling in on themselves as she hauls the ship towards her._

_She cannot tell whether the screaming comes from her or from the ship’s engine._

_“Come back!” She barely registers the words. She wills it more than says it. “Come back!”_

_She’s never felt anger like this. Never felt such hate. Her desperation and sadness from being abandoned gives way to something far more lethal._

_And that lethal part of her just_ knows _\- whoever’s in that rickety ship deserves what’s coming._

_In one final burst of power, she yanks her arm forcefully inwards._

_The engine splutters. The thrusters spark._

_At first she thinks it’s working._

Then she blinks.

The sand is softer. The heat dies down. The ship is larger, heavier, and its passenger is far more precious.

The dirty grip on her arm vanishes. Instead, Kylo Ren has closed the distance between them, his hands now cradling either side of her face. The sheer desperation in his eyes has escalated to something unfathomable.

“You need to let go,” he whispers, he all but _pleads_. “Rey, you know who’s in there. You know he can’t—”

With a gasp, a sudden stroke of realisation, she lets go. But it’s too late.

The engine splutters. The thrusters spark.

The ship explodes.

“NO!” Kylo immediately turns away from her, towards the flaming mess in the sky, debris raining down.

“CHEWIE!” Rey screams, horror tearing through her chest.

Finn is shouting something, maybe her name, maybe Chewie’s, but she can’t bring herself to tell.

“Chewie…” she gasps.

She looks at her shaking open palm. She’s never lost control like this before. And the vision… what was that vision? It was so real, felt so real, almost like it was a memory.

Out of her ringing ears, she can vaguely hear Poe’s voice, shouting from the canyon, “We gotta go! They’re coming!”

There’s a distant, searing wail of TIE fighters closing in.

She swallows the lump in her throat and stumbles up to Kylo. He stands there, cape billowing almost mournfully in the wind, not taking his eyes off the debris for a second. His face is unreadable, empty. He might as well be wearing his mask.

“Call them off,” she rasps up at him. “Call them off right now.”

“Go,” he says quietly. He doesn’t even turn to look at her.

She’s not sure she heard him right. “What?”

“Get out of here,” he says flatly. “Before they kill you.”

She gapes at him for a long moment.

“Rey! We need to go _now_!” Poe shouts again. “Come on!”

She looks from her friends, to Kylo. She turns to leave. Then she stops.

“I—” she breathes.

She lays a tentative hand on his forearm, and a flurry of memories come surging through her like a storm. His memories.

_Chewie letting him fiddle with the controls in the cockpit of the Falcon, giggling as the Wookiee picks him up and places him in his lap._

_Chewie trying to catch Han’s golden dice, careening through the air, Ben’s favourite thing to levitate when he was younger._

_Chewie teaching him Shyriiwook and guffawing at Ben’s terrible accent._

_Chewie sending him transmissions with inside jokes while Ben was away at the Jedi Temple._

_Chewie consoling him after he’d found out he was related to Vader. Ben pushing him away._

_Pain. Regret. Loneliness. Love._

Kylo doesn’t even blink.

Rey pulls away, hastily. Her cheeks are traitorously wet.

Then she turns and starts running.

* * *

Hux has other things to do.

He should be pretending to oversee preparations for the Sith fleet. He should be pretending to give reports to Ren. He should be yelling at some disgraceful underling, doing something, anything, rather than lock himself in his quarters and pace it from one end to the other. Again and again. For the past hour.

Stupid rebels. Stupid Falcon. Stupid Dameron. For all he knows, they could have been caught by now. They could have been killed. Their ship could have been blown out of the sky, its computer along with it, floating in the atmosphere in millions of little pieces. Then it would only be a matter of time before Hux ended up like that too.

Dameron’s silence is heart stopping. Maybe if he didn’t talk so much Hux wouldn’t have missed it as much as he does now. As much as Hux would hate to admit it, their conversations, no matter how critical the information relayed, had been what people would call the “highlight” of his days. Hux wouldn’t know, of course, because he’s never had one before.

But the pilot gives him hope. Hope for what exactly, Hux cannot tell. He’s not even sure if he wants this hope. All he knows is that it feels good, and that probably means it won’t last.

Dameron and his jokes, Dameron and his cocky, self-assured way of speaking, Dameron and his big, infuriating, golden heart. Caring too much. Always rushing to do the right thing.

Hux stops short of pacing.

 _That’s why he can never know who I am,_ he thinks bitterly. _He’ll hate me. And I’m not ready for that._

Hux kicks the side of his bunk with a growl of outrage. The same time his toe starts throbbing, his computer makes a muffled beeping noise from beneath his mattress.

Just like that, he ignores the pain and throws the bedding aside.

_\---_

**_M-FALC:_ ** _just left pasaana. out of range now. thanks for the warning_

 **_TR:_ ** _You rebels are out of your mind._

 **_M-FALC:_ ** _includes you. you’re a rebel too_

 **_TR:_ ** _Maybe so. But I have twice the brains all of you idiots combined. Which is at least enough to know when one should never leave a ship unwatched._

 **_M-FALC:_ ** _it was worth it though. after most of what happened._

 **_TR:_ ** _What was?_

 **_M-FALC:_ ** _to see you worried about me. you pretty much went insane_

 **_TR:_ ** _I did not._

 **_M-FALC:_ ** _did too. admit it, you care about me. you LIKE me_

 **_TR:_ ** _Perhaps you’d grow on me more if you weren’t so arrogant._

 **_M-FALC:_ ** _more? so i’m already growing on you_

_\---_

Hux frowns. Something’s wrong with Dameron. He hasn’t used a single exclamation point. He knows their conversation couldn’t have been hijacked, because no one else flirts with him like Dameron does. Maybe their mission went south, somehow.

The lack of visual enthusiasm in their conversation takes something out of it, so for the first time, Hux decides to oblige.

****

**_\---_ **

****

**_TR:_ ** _Fine. Just a little._

 **_M-FALC:_ ** _i knew it!_

****

**_\---_ **

That’s enough of a win for him.

An alarm starts blaring outside. Hux hastily covers up his computer system and for the first time in the past hour, steps out of his quarters.

“Report,” he barks to the first officer he encounters on his way down to the main bridge.

“The Pasaana transports have returned, sir,” the officer says. “Along with the Supreme Leader and the Knights of Ren.”

The officer shows Hux his datapad, where there is live camera footage of Ren and his Knights striding across the main hangar on one screen, and footage of troopers disembarking the transports on another.

Then, to his surprise, something large and furry and definitely not a trooper trundles out from one of the transports, roaring indignantly and straining its cuffs.

Hux wrinkles his nose. “Is that a Wookiee?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: if you start watching tlj at 10:44:37 on new year's eve (31st December 2019), the first thing you'll hear in the decade is kylo saying "you're not alone"
> 
> and yes that's exactly what i'm doing as soon as i finish writing these notes. just wanted to say, this year has been another big year for star wars. did it fail us in the end? no fucking shit if not i wouldn't be here writing 6k words a day. but was the journey worth it? absolutely. this fandom is one of the most intelligent, aggressively passionate fandoms i have ever been in in my whole life. the franchise may be gone, but the fandom is forever. thank you all for making my last few days of the decade so productive and encouraging <3 big love to you all and see you guys in the next decade!!
> 
> which is approximately in less than two hours oh dear god


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you didn't think i wrote 6k words today and only decided to post 2k of it, did you?? besides, IT'S 2020!! HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!
> 
> here's some of the highlights for this chapter:  
> \- reylo snippet  
> \- BEN AND CHEWIE MOMENTS (in which ben is 100% baby)  
> \- hux and poe battle with their feelings for each other. fellow gays, you are FED tonight
> 
> enjoy my dudes!!

“You let her go.” Kylo vaguely hears Cardo Ren say, accusingly, from over his shoulder.

“I’m assuming this isn’t the first time you’ve done this,” Ap’Lek is grumbling, her steps uneven. Apparently she’d been thrown over a cliff? Kylo can barely recall.

The other Knights are all snapping and snarling at him, Kuruk furiously thumping and dragging his blade through the polished black floors of the ship.

Kylo does not hear a thing. His mind can’t register it.

Another one of his family. Gone.

He can almost hear Rey’s voice, nights and nights ago through the bond, her emotional stability stretched thin from their recent argument. He’d fallen silent when the first tear trailed down her face.

_“How many more of us have to die for you to come back?” she’d sobbed angrily, pounding a fist on his chest. “To come home?”_

He hadn’t known what to say. So he pulled her in and held her close, rubbing circles in her back, whispering hushed apologies into her hair without knowing exactly what he was sorry for. It took all his might to fight back his own tears.

Like he’s doing now.

“Supreme Leader,” Hux falls into step beside him, a datapad in hand, his composure straight and somehow more smug than usual.

“What,” Kylo says.

“What are we to do with the prisoner?” Hux asks.

Just like that, he snaps to attention.

“What prisoner?” he demands.

He dismisses his Knights and follows Hux to the detention level. The hall is lined with stormtroopers. Inside one of the cells, one leg cuffed and chained to a bunk far too small for him, sits—

“Chewie,” he whispers, gripping the bars.

Chewbacca looks up at him, and Kylo catches a glimpse of his eyes contorting in anger before the Wookiee descends on him with a roar.

Chewie launches himself at the bars, slamming his body into it, making it rattle violently on its hinges. Kylo only pulls himself away before his fingers would have been crushed.

The surrounding stormtroopers raise their blasters.

“No!” he disarms all of them at once, with a flick of his hand, and their weapons hit the ceiling. “I need him alive!”

 _I need him alive,_ he tells himself desperately. _I need him._

“Deactivate the cameras,” he tells Hux.

“But sir—”

Kylo wordlessly raises a finger in Hux’s face.

Hux swallows and immediately does as he’s told.

Steadying his breath, Kylo spins back around and speaks to Chewie again, “I know you’re angry.”

Chewie keeps ramming into the cell door.

YOU KILLED HIM, he growls, his tone ferocious and mistrusting. YOU KILLED MY BEST FRIEND. YOUR OWN FATHER.

“I know,” Kylo says roughly. His vision blurs with angry tears. “Just listen to me, you stubborn animal!”

The least he could do is get Chewie to understand the situation.

UNGRATEFUL CHILD, Chewie snarls. I WOULD RATHER DIE THAN LISTEN TO YOU.

“I won’t hurt you.”

YOU ALREADY HURT ME. JUST LIKE YOU HURT EVERYONE ELSE. HAN, REY, LEIA, Chewie rumbles. YOU’RE BREAKING YOUR MOTHER’S HEART, BEN.

“Don’t call me that,” Kylo says, his breath hitching in his throat.

THAT’S YOUR NAME.

“It used to be. I’m no longer the boy you knew.”

YES YOU ARE. Chewie rattles the bars again. The hinges start to squeak. YOU ALWAYS HAVE BEEN.

The stormtroopers back away against the wall. Hux stands a distance behind Kylo, watchful and unmoving.

“No,” says Kylo numbly. “No, I can’t. Listen to me, I—”

YOU LIE TO YOURSELF, BEN. Chewie throws himself harder against the bars. Finally, there’s a distinct crack of a bone breaking.

The sound drives itself right into Kylo’s heart. He feels it breaking too.

Furious, blinking back his tears and without really thinking twice, Kylo heaves himself forward, wrapping his hands tightly around Chewie’s wrist as broken string of Shyriiwook rips from his own throat.

His men must think he’s deranged.

* * *

_The Supreme Leader is completely, utterly deranged,_ Hux thinks.

* * *

STOP UNCLE CHEWIE DON’T WANT TO OUCH YOU STOP LISTEN PLEASE.

Immediately, Chewie stops and shrinks away from the bars.

Kylo is left panting, his hands now gripping the bars of the cell but his eyes not leaving Chewie’s.

He tries again, and only half registers he’s speaking from his heart. THOUGHT YOU GONE. THOUGHT YOU LEAVE ME AGAIN. MISSED YOU.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, his forehead pressed against the bars, until Hux steps cautiously forward.

“Supreme Le—”

“OUT!” Kylo roars. “ALL OF YOU!”

Not a single one of them hesitates. They scamper out of the detention block without a word, Hux looking thoroughly traumatised. Kylo cannot bring himself to care.

The second the blast doors slide shut behind them, Kylo lets the blasters fall from his grip, clattering to the floor.

He slumps to his knees in front of Chewie’s cell, and for the first time in over a decade, he cries.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps through his tears. “I’m so sorry.”

He buries his face in his hands, shoulders heaving. Two furry arms come reaching out of the cell and wraps themselves around him. He’s engulfed in a warmth he has not felt for as long as he can remember.

DO YOU MISS HIM? Chewie asks. The transition from aggressive beast to _Uncle Chewie_ twists his heart in every possible way. He does not deserve this.

“Every day,” Kylo says. His voice breaks. “I miss him every day. I’m sorry.”

I KNOW, KID. Chewie huffs, patting him gently on the back. I KNOW.

* * *

They’d lightspeed-skipped right out of Pasaana. It took them a while to escape the First Order’s scanners but they’d managed to cut themselves loose just in time. The Falcon is now floating freely somewhere in the Yost System, her occupants seem just about lost as she is.

Rose lies unconscious in a bunk, just as she had a year ago after Crait. Finn sits beside Rey at the dejarik table. All is silent except for Poe’s quiet typing on the Falcon’s computer.

Finn turns to Rey, hesitantly.

“Rey,” he says. “You know it wasn’t your fault. Kylo tried to—”

“He tried to stop me,” whispers Rey. “He was trying to stop me. It wasn’t his fault.”

“Oh,” says Finn, taken aback.

“That power came from me,” Rey says, her eyes glassy. “I couldn’t control it.”

“Rey, we all make mistakes,” Finn presses on.

“Did they cost entire lives?” Rey raises her eyebrows, and a lone tear runs down her face. “The lives of friends?”

“Back on Takodana, I had to kill some of my own friends,” Finn says. “I mean, the closest thing I had to friends _._ I know how it feels to lose them by my own hand. It’s awful.”

“This is different,” Rey gets to her feet and starts pacing. “You made that choice, and if you hadn’t, you would have been killed. I didn’t have a choice, I just…”

She trails off, remembering the vision.

“I just have a feeling I’ve done it before,” Rey says in a hushed voice. She turns back to Finn, who’s watching her with a pitying expression. She fights back a sudden wave of aggression. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I should have stayed with Leia.”

“Hey, no,” Poe spins around in his chair by the computer. He leans towards Rey, his elbows resting on his knees, looking her dead in the eye. “I mean what I said. You are the strongest fighter we have.”

“Maybe that’s why I shouldn’t be out here,” Rey points out, almost hysterically. “Maybe Leia knew this would happen.”

“Enough with the maybes,” Finn interrupts. “If Leia knew this was gonna happen, she would have never let you leave at all. And she would have warned you.”

“Leia sees the potential in all of us,” Poe says, gently. “Force sensitive or not, she believes in us. She trusts us. She trusts you.”

“And we trust you too,” Finn stands and wraps a comforting arm around her shoulders.

“Not just as allies, but as friends,” Poe says. “And we can’t support each other if you’re locked up like some animal back at base.”

Rey turns and hugs Finn tightly, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, now,” Finn pats her amicably on the back. “It’s not your fault.”

“I don't know what I'd do without you guys,” Rey sniffs, muffled by Finn’s vest.

“Lock yourself up like some animal back at base, I guess,” Poe shrugs.

Rey aims a half-hearted kick at his shin as he’s turning back to the computer. “Shut up.”

* * *

**_TR:_ ** _You’re a kriffing liar, Dameron._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _excuse me??_

**_TR:_ ** _You didn’t tell me you left your Wookiee behind._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _what????? we didn't leave him behind, he's dead. we saw him die_

**_TR:_ ** _Then who just threatened to rip my arms off through the bars of his cell?_

**_M-FALC:_ ** _oh my gods you have chewie_

**_M-FALC:_ ** _HOW??????_

**_TR:_ ** _They brought him back in one of our transports. Reports say that your Jedi destroyed the other one._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _HES ALIVE??????_

**_TR:_ ** _No, you imbecile, they brought his stinking carcass aboard and locked it in one of our holding cells in case it tries to escape. Of course he’s alive._

\---

Poe lets out a shout, and everyone jumps. Even Rose wakes up.

“Whuh…” she mumbles, rubbing her head.

“CHEWIE’S ALIVE!” Poe all but yells, even though everyone is in very close earshot.

“No,” breathes Rey in disbelief.

“Yes!” cries Poe and punches the air in triumph.

“How do you know?” Finn asks intently.

“He’s on Kylo Ren’s flagship, in the detention center!” He points gleefully at the computer. “Our little friend told us. There were more than one transports in the desert, we must have seen the wrong one!”

“Wait, I’m sorry, let’s rewind there,” Rose squeezes her eyes shut. “Are you telling me Chewie _died?_ ”

“Only for a little while,” Poe grins. He kisses his hand and presses it to the computer screen. “Thanks to them.”

“I take a nap for like, two seconds and it all goes to shit,” Rose sighs.

“We gotta go get him.” Finn starts making towards the cockpit.

"How? They could be anywhere by now," Rey says worriedly.

“I have an idea about that,” Poe smiles even wider and turns back to the computer.

\---

****

**_M-FALC:_ ** _thank you SO MUCH. gods i could kiss you_

* * *

Hux feels his face grow warm.

_i could kiss you_

Before he can stop himself, he’s imagining Dameron’s long lashes dipping downwards, his clumsy smirk, and then his annoyingly talkative mouth pressed to his own.

That ought to shut him up.

Hux dismisses the thought violently from his mind, and he doesn’t even need a mirror to know that he’s blushing furiously. He’ll be damned, drawn, and sucked out an airlock before Poe Dameron would ever willingly kiss him.

\---

****

**_TR_ ** _: Don’t push your luck._

**_TR:_ ** _I don’t know how long Ren is planning to keep him. Somehow the Wookiee is making him emotional._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _wow that’s gotta be scary_

**_TR:_ ** _Kylo Ren speaking Shyriiwook on the verge of tears? The most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen._

* * *

Poe laughs.

“Hurry it up, Poe!” Rose nudges him in the back as she passes him to fix the hyperdrive. “We still have to resolve that Wayfinder business, remember?”

“I’m on it, I’m on it!”

\---

****

**_M-FALC:_ ** _well… i guess you know what this means. since you have our wookiee_

**_TR:_ ** _What?_

**_M-FALC:_ ** _( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_

**_TR:_ ** _I don’t understa_

**_TR:_ ** _Oh_

**_TR:_ ** _Oh no._

**_TR:_ ** _Dameron, no._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _sit tight babe we’re coming_

**_TR:_ ** _You cannot possibly think calling me an endearment will make me agree to this._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _i was referring to chewieHOLD ON A SECOND you think it’s endearing?????_

**_TR:_ ** _Dameron please don’t tell me you’re stupid enough to fall for this. Ren is probably only keeping him alive because he wants to draw you in. You can’t come back here._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _‘back here’? so you’re still in the middian system. i’m beginning to think you WANT us to come get you_

**_TR:_ ** _I’ll toss your Wookiee in an escape pod and you can collect him from there, no one’s ever down at the escape pod bay. Just do not, under any circumstance, come find me._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _what are you so afraid of? you’ve helped us countless of times_

**_TR:_ ** _I’ve hurt you countless more._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _is that a clue for who you are?_

**_TR:_ ** _It’s a fact. If you find out who I really am, you’ll hate me._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _hey, i could never hate you. i don’t care who you are, or what you’ve done. what matters is NOW. you’re doing the right thing, helping us._

**_TR:_ ** _I told you before. I have my reasons._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _i know. that’s what makes you real, TR._

**_TR:_ ** _That’s not my real name._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _i don’t care. i know you. i know your grammar’s always perfect, and you only miss punctuations when you’re worried or stressed or when pryde treats you like shit. i know you’re stubborn, sarcastic, and no matter how much you deny it, you care. you care in your own headstrong, murderous way. that’s why i’m coming for you. you’re not just some computer system i talk to every day. you’re real and you’re alive and you are OUT THERE. that’s what matters._

**_TR:_ ** _Please, Dameron. I need you to think about this._

**_M-FALC:_ ** _i already have. see you soon_

\---

Poe strides into the cockpit and sinks into the co-pilot’s seat beside Rey.

“So, where’s Chewie?” Rey asks, flipping a few switches on the controls.

“They’re still in the Middian System,” says Poe. “We can land in the escape pod bay.”

“You got all that from the spy?” Rey raises an eyebrow, impressed. “Did they agree we can collect them too?”

“Nope. But you were right before,” says Poe, prepping for lightspeed. Then he turns to her. “To hell with that.”

Rey smirks, setting the course to the Middian System and jumping to hyperspace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that was a slightly longer chapter and quite possibly one of the last for a long while :(( school is starting in a day and i highly doubt i'll have time to write at all. i hope you guys have enjoyed the ride so far and thank you all so much for all your lovely comments ❤️❤️ i can't appreciate it enough!!
> 
> feel free to chat with me on my tumblr @shruggyben or my Instagram @cosmicowlcosplay, and since some of you have been unbelievably enthusiastic and offered to do art for my fic, i would be honoured if you tagged me in it so i can see or maybe even add them to my future chapters!! you guys are truly the best. i hope 2020 treats you well and may the force be with you always 🎉🎉🎈
> 
> p.s. did yall catch that love simon vibe,,,, hehe


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY I LIED here's another chapter before i REALLY go on hiatus. school starts tomorrow and i'm really fucking dreading it, but what can i do hhhhhhh
> 
> this fic has been incredibly therapeutic for me, and i really hope it's been that way for you guys too!!
> 
> here's what to look forward to in today's chapter:  
> \- ben spills his tea about rey to his uncle chewie heheheh  
> \- rose is Soft with threepio, who gets the APPRECIATION he deserves  
> \- badass protective rose  
> \- rey and kylo have another Moment (this scene opens a gateway deeper into the plot and main message, hopefully by the end of this whole story yall can figure it out)
> 
> (rose and threepio art once again by the lovely @icedaquarius31 on tumblr and @IcedAquarius on AO3!! i love it so so so much ahhh)

Their spy was right again. No one ever goes into the escape pod bay.

Rey vaguely wonders whether it is because they are too afraid of Kylo’s wrath to desert the First Order or because they’re genuinely loyal to him.

They descend secretly in the dark, deactivated escape pod bay, while Rose helps to disable the flagship’s shields for a split second, allowing them undetected passage. A little trick she’d learned from someone named DJ, which Finn scowls at.

“I’ll stay here,” says Rose, tapping her wrench in her palm. “While you guys go get Chewie, I can try to get Threepio’s programming adjusted.”

“Good idea,” says Rey, clipping her lightsaber back on her belt and lowering the Falcon’s ramp. “We can get more done in a shorter time.”

“By the way,” says Poe. “Check if there are any new messages on the computer, alright?”

Finn frowns at him. “Okay, that thing has possessed you.”

“They were the ones who told me we should keep an eye on the ship!” Poe protests. “What if they try to warn us that his squadron is doing a sweep of the bay?”

“Not like I can fly the Falcon by myself anyway,” Rose scoffs, as the trio leaves her to her devices.

* * *

They have no idea where they’re going.

They sneak past what must have been ten troops of guards. The ship is vastly different than The Supremacy. There are slopes and more stairs, rather than flat grounds and a million elevators. There’s more nooks and crannies and doorways that are very helpful for hiding, but not very helpful when they all look exactly the same.

They blast a few troopers who had spotted them, and a few cameras just in case. Eventually their trail of bodies is detected and the hiding to moving around ratio increases 4 to 1.

“We’re never going to find Chewie here,” Poe hisses furiously, as they hide near a viewport showing the other end of the ship. “What level are we on?”

Finn squints out the viewport and counts the levels down. “Seven.”

“We were on level three just a minute ago!” Rey whispers. She huffs an irritated breath and strides straight ahead. “Kriff this.”

“Rey, wait!”

She walks directly into two armed stormtroopers.

“Hey!”

“Freeze!”

She can feel Finn and Poe running up to blast them, but she quickly waves her hand, reaching into the troopers’ minds, and says, “It’s okay that we’re here.”

“It’s okay that we’re here,” echoes the stormtroopers.

Another wave. “You’re _relieved_ that we’re here.”

“Thank goodness you’re here,” one trooper says.

“Welcome, guys,” says the other.

“Damn it,” says Finn, lowering his blaster. “Why didn’t we think of that earlier?”

“Okay, too much,” Poe grimaces, as the second trooper tries to hug him. “Rey, call ‘em off!”

“We’re looking for a prisoner,” Rey concentrates on extracting the information. “And his belongings.”

* * *

Kylo doesn’t know how long he spends, sitting outside Chewie’s cell, spilling his heart like a drowning man.

“I saw what she did,” he says, his back against the bars of the door. “To that ship. To the one in her past. The Emperor was right, she wasn’t who I thought she was.”

Chewie, whose back is also leaning against the bars, says nothing for a long moment. Then—

WHATEVER REY HAS DONE IN HER PAST DOES NOT MAKE HER WHO SHE IS. YOU CANNOT TRUST THE EMPEROR, BEN.

“Even when he’s telling the truth?” Kylo asks.

HE WANTED TO GO AFTER YOUR MOTHER, YOU KNOW. IF YOUR UNCLE LUKE REFUSED TO TURN.

“What?” Kylo turns around. “Why didn’t they tell me?”

Chewie pauses again.

THEY DIDN’T TELL YOU A LOT OF THINGS.

“I’m sure they didn’t,” Kylo says bitterly.

JUST BE THANKFUL. IF YOUR MOTHER HAD TURNED, YOU WOULD HAVE NEVER BEEN BORN.

Kylo thinks, long and hard, about this new information.

“But then Han Solo would still be alive,” he concludes.

Chewie thumps his head insistently against the bars.

BUT THEN HE WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN YOUR FATHER.

Kylo sighs. “Did he ever want to be, in the first place? He never seemed like the type.”

HE LOVED YOU, BEN. MORE THAN ANYTHING. JUST LIKE YOUR MOTHER LOVES YOU, AND JUST LIKE YOU LOVE REY.

Kylo stiffens and gets to his feet. Chewie gets up from the floor of his cell and sits on his bunk. He cocks his head, curiously, like Kylo is a puzzle he can’t solve.

EVER SINCE THE SUPREMACY… AHCH-TO… YOU DO LOVE HER, DON’T YOU?

“I…” Kylo’s voice dies in his throat.

He’d never admitted it aloud before. He does. He knows he does. He has for a long time, maybe longer than he’s been aware. But he'll be quartered if she ever feels the same way.

“I’ll only disappoint her,” he says instead.

To his surprise, Chewie chuckles.

THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID, TOO.

Kylo opens his mouth to… protest? Question? Deny? A presence in the Force wrings his attention away before he can decipher it for himself.

_Rey._

She’s here.

Kylo glances to Chewie, who looks expectantly back up at him.

“You have very loyal friends,” he tells him. “They came back for you.”

Chewie straightens in realisation.

BEN, PLEASE DON’T HURT THEM.

Kylo turns away sweeps out of the detention level. “No promises.”

* * *

They’re halfway to the detention block, when Rey stops in her tracks.

Her end of the bond starts burning bright, like it’s a thread catching fire. The same feeling she got on Pasaana when Kylo first approached her.

He’s close.

“What is it?” Finn asks her urgently. “Is it Kylo?”

“He’s in there,” says Rey. “I can feel him.”

“Do you think he’s alone?” asks Poe. “We outnumber him three to one.”

“What? No,” Rey shakes her head and turns on her heels. “Look, he’ll want to come after me, so I’ll draw him out. You two go in and get Chewie, I’ll go get his belongings.”

“Come on, what kind of talk is that?” Poe steps towards her, indignant. “We’re not gonna let you sacrifice yourself. We’re in this together, till the end, remember?”

“I’m not sacrificing myself, Poe,” Rey says, almost amused. “He won’t hurt me.”

“How do you know?” Finn asks.

Rey bites her lip, and goes with the truth. “Because he’s never hurt me before.”

She makes off in the opposite direction.

* * *

“Are you quite sure you know what you’re doing, Master Rose?” Threepio asks.

“Are you quite sure you’re a protocol droid, Threepio?” Rose grunts, as she picks at another wire in the droid’s head. “Try to relax. I’m doing my best.”

“My apologies,” Threepio says, disheartened. “I am just concerned for the consequences of this reprogramming. Most of the time, it may result in a complete—”

“Memory wipe, I know,” Rose finishes for him.

Then she stops.

“But if, by any chance, this will cause a memory wipe, are you still up for it?” Rose asks, nervously.

Threepio pauses.

“If this mission fails,” he says, strangely faraway. “It was all for nothing. What we’ve done. All this time.”

He falls silent again.

“Threepio?”

“All of you have been taking risks on this mission,” Threepio decides. “Perhaps it is time I took one of my own.”

Rose feels a sudden rush of fondness for him. Smiling, she wraps her arms around Threepio’s golden torso and lays her chin on his shoulder.

“What—” Threepio starts. “What are you doing? Are we in danger? What is this?”

“Affection,” Rose says. “You deserve it. You’re really brave, Threepio, I hope you know that.”

“Oh! Why, thank you,” Threepio seems pleased. “I am honoured to receive such affection for once.”

“If your memory gets wiped, we’ll make sure you receive it way more than once,” Rose promises, as she disentangles herself and gets back to work.

“In that case,” Threepio says. “Perhaps a memory wipe doesn’t sound so bad after all.”

There’s an echo of static from outside the Falcon. Rose drops her wrench and whips around.

“I’ll be right back,” she says.

Rose picks up her blaster and goes to peer down the ramp of the Falcon. The shadows outside are moving, shaped suspiciously like stormtroopers.

“Over there!” crackles the static, and suddenly there are footsteps.

“Oh, my!” Threepio panics. “So we _are_ in danger after all!”

Rose hushes the frantic protocol droid, and moves quietly to hide next to the Falcon’s entrance. She grips her Haysian Smelt necklace for courage, and holds her breath.

Soon enough, two stormtroopers hike up the ramp.

“What the hell is this—”

Rose sticks her shock prod in the nearest trooper’s neck and blasts the second one in the chest. They hit the ground at the same time.

She drags the bodies to the side and races back to Threepio. With two troopers down, it’s very likely they’ll send even more. It’s only a matter of time before she’s caught.

She works just a little faster.

* * *

Rey’s only seen his quarters in flashes through the bond. Seeing it in real life now makes her insides do a weird, not entirely unpleasant squirm.

There’s a lot more white than she expected. There’s even a viewport, open out to the stars beyond.

She focuses on her purpose, to obtain Chewie’s belongings, and regroup. There’s a nagging sensation at the back of her mind, the vision she’d seen on Pasaana, the fact that Kylo was the only other person who knows what happened. Or if it ever really did. The need to know the truth is slowly starting to rip her apart.

 _No,_ she thinks pathetically. _He’s probably lying. He just wants me on his side._

But she can almost hear his smug, resolute voice behind her ear, “I’ve never lied to you.”

The thread inside her starts burns stronger, the flame of his presence spreading down the bond towards her very soul.

_He’s coming._

She bats the thoughts away, takes a breath, and delves further into his quarters.

* * *

Kylo Ren strides out from within the detention block, and heading in exactly the direction Rey had left.

By some miracle, the blast doors remain open. Once Kylo passes, Poe and Finn slip through and immediately, Chewie wails a delighted greeting from behind his cell bars.

AREN’T YOU A LITTLE TOO SHORT TO BE STORMTROOPERS?

“We missed you too, buddy!” Finn smirks up at him.

They blast the locking mechanism and the door swings open.

* * *

She passes Vader’s mangled helmet. It’s a lot larger than she expected. It also radiates a dark energy that seems eerily ancient. She spares a wary glance at it, and because she knows better than to be drawn in by its call, she moves on.

Rey finds the Sith dagger sitting neatly on a sort of pedestal, white to match the rest of the room. She picks it up and stuffs it in her bag, and at the same time his voice echoes from behind her.

“Rey.”

She turns and almost laughs.

This _idiot_ of a Supreme Leader has his helmet back on.

“Never knew you were such a collector,” she snipes, nodding at the various artefacts in his room.

“Never knew you were such a sneak,” Kylo says.

There’s an extended pause.

“So.” She crosses her arms.

“So.” Kylo tilts his head slightly.

“Chewie’s alive,” she says, as if she were commenting on the weather. “I’m sure you’re glad.”

“I am,” he says, and _Force,_ she hates that helmet for obscuring his expression right now. “He told me a great many things that were… of interest to me.”

“He wouldn’t,” Rey snaps. “Unless you hurt him.”

Kylo doesn’t respond for a long moment, when Rey realises that this is literally the man who begged her to let go of a transport that they both thought carried Chewie. Begged her not to destroy it. She feels a flicker of truth sparking down the bond and into her mind. It’s all true. He _knows_ something.

“I’m… willing to listen,” Rey says slowly.

Kylo straightens, raptly.

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?” His voice is apprehensive.

Rey starts closing the distance between them.

Kylo is as still as a sculpture. Once he’s within arm’s reach, she brings her hands up to either side of his helmet and shucks it off. _Finally._ His hair falls forward to frame his face.

Rey’s lips part in a soft gasp when she sees his slightly bloodshot eyes. He’d evidently been crying.

“Now you see me,” he whispers, and it’s a gentle, broken thing.

His eyes dip down and up, studying her face, lingering on her lips a fraction too long. Rey swallows hard. _I’ve always seen you._

She drops the helmet to the floor and reluctantly pulls herself away.

“Tell me about the vision I had,” she says, her voice wavering.

He hesitates, which is something she did not expect. He’d been dying to tell her a few hours ago.

“You saw what happened,” he says. Something between a statement and a question.

“I saw that I did it before,” Rey says, but she’s never been this uncertain about anything in her life. “When I was a child.”

“You were… different as a child. More carefree. Open minded.” Kylo says, and it’s like her memories her his, as if he’s the one trying to recall it from his own mind. Then his eyes snap up to meet hers. “More open to the Dark Side. Like me.”

Just like that, her defenses slam shut. Because of all those training sessions together, or maybe they just know each other’s body well enough, they start circling each other at the same time. In perfect sync.

Just like that, they’re enemies again.

“I’m nothing like you,” she snarls.

“You are,” he murmurs. “You and I are more alike than you know.”

“Then maybe I don’t want to know any more,” she says, her hand resting on the hilt of her saber.

“You do,” he says, his eyes shining. “Rey, I know the rest of your story.”

“If it ends with me as your Empress, _I don’t want to know._ ” She tries to slip past him, to get to the door, but he moves in her way and she collides with his chest. She glares up at him. “Let me out.”

“The Dark Side is part of the Force, Rey,” Kylo goes on. “It’s part of everyone. Denial of it will just make things worse.”

“You’ve made it bad enough.” She unclips the saber from her belt. “Now get out of my way.”

“What happened when you were a child went exactly the same way as it did today,” Kylo recalls for her. “You destroyed that ship. The only difference is that you _wanted_ to.”

And then she sees it.

_Her own tiny hand, tightened into a fist, and up ahead, a ship had just burst into flames. Unkar’s hand is no longer holding her arm. He’d drawn back in his terror._

_She sat in the sand and watched the debris rain, the little lethal part of her purring in her chest. The explosion looked a little bit like those pretty fireworks she’d seen on the Holonet._

“Who…” Her breath catches in her throat. She’s not sure whether she wants to know the answer, but her voice seems to be acting on its own accord. “Who were they?”

Kylo looks at her. “You already know.”

“I’d remember if they were important,” Rey says firmly. “I’d remember killing someone.”

“You forgot them because you wanted to,” Kylo says quietly. “Because you were in denial. Like you are now.”

Suddenly, she can feel herself falling apart. She can feel years and years of blissful denial flaking away and the truth starting to emerge. She can feel herself, her mind, her presence in the Force, grow more and more aware of it, like it’s the one thing that changes everything. Her whole life.

“You know who they were,” Kylo says again, advancing on her. “You know who you killed. Say it.”

“No,” she whispers. “I couldn’t have—”

“You’re only afraid of it because I’ve done it too.” His voice holds a hard, resentful edge now. She realises the fiery hatred he feels is for himself. “What you’ve done makes you _just like me_.”

With a cry, she ignites her saber and points accusingly it at him.

“And what’s that?” she hisses. “A monster?”

The familiar tic in his eye returns.

“No,” he says. “Guilty.”

She swings his saber at him.

And because of all those training sessions together, or maybe he just knows her body well enough, he meets her every blow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so THAT WAS IT GUYS
> 
> thats officially 45% of this entire fic holy SHIT i cant believe i wrote 23k words in a WEEK (nanowrimo WHOMST)
> 
> i have the next chapter written out as well, we should hit the halfway point at chapter 10. not sure when i'll get to writing and posting those chapters but i've already written 3 or 4k words today and im exhausted. i'm gonna spend the rest of the night reading fanfics instead, but i hope yall will enjoy mine!! aka the ACTUAL last chapter until after my hiatus. thanks for sticking with me yall!!
> 
> \---
> 
> and because i know you guys would kill for hux/gingerpilot, here's a snippet of chapter 9:
> 
> “I thought you knew what you were doing,” says a rough, Arkanian accent.
> 
> Poe looks up and Armitage Hux’s face swims into view.
> 
> His blade and a good half of his sleeve is drenched in blood. There’s even a few crimson droplets scattered across his jaw. His lower lip is bleeding and slightly swollen. Locks of his auburn fringe fall indelicately over his eyes.
> 
> In a daze and despite his aching body, it’s undoubtedly the hottest thing Poe has ever seen.
> 
> \---
> 
> i feel gay in this chilli's tonight......... GOODNIGHT


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things to look forward to this chapter:  
> \- the moment yall thirsty gingerpilots have been waiting for,,,,,, M-FALC finally realises who TR is  
> \- in other words, *banging pots and pans* GAYS COME AND GET YALLS JUICE

Out of the corner of her eye, as she’s re-adjusting the final wire as fast as her fingers can work, Rose sees another shadow shift just beneath the Falcon’s ramp. At first she thinks it’s nothing, because it’s dead silent outside, but the figures become more distinct as they move.

They also begin to multiply.

Rose curses inwardly. Her time is up.

“Godspeed, Threepio,” she whispers, and with a final spark, Threepio’s body deactivates.

And he doesn’t come back online.

Suddenly, all the lights in the Falcon switch off, plunging her into an unsettling darkness.

“Rose Tico,” says a raspy, female voice from behind her. “So nice to properly meet you.”

She whirls around with her shock prod, but it’s knocked painfully out of her hand. She feels something cold and sharp against her throat.

The lights flicker back on, and Ap’Lek Ren, along with four other similarly masked Knights stand before her. Ushar Ren stands at her back, his blade pressed to her neck.

“How’s it going,” Rose growls, but knows better than to struggle.

“Where are your friends?” Vicrul asks.

“I don’t know,” Rose says flatly, and is rewarded with the blade being pushed harder against the skin of her neck.

“Of course you don’t,” Ap’Lek says, like she could be rolling her eyes underneath that helmet.

“They’re freeing the Wookiee,” Cardo grunts, and Kuruk nudges him in the ribs.

“What are you doing?” Trudgen hisses. “We’re not supposed to tell her their plan is working.”

“It’s not,” Ap’Lek says. “If it was, we wouldn’t have caught her. It’s only a matter of time her friends will be found as well.”

“Take her upstairs,” Vicrul says, and Ushar makes to drag Rose out of the ship along with the rest of the Knights.

On their way out, Cardo passes Threepio’s stiff body and prods it. “What happened here?”

“Hey!” Only now does Rose try to kick herself free. “Don’t touch him!”

“Oh, you _care_ about this piece of junk?” Cardo sneers, and the rest of the Knights snicker. He grabs a hold of one of Threepio’s stiff arms. “Little girls and their dolls.”

“NO!” Rose shouts.

He hurls the droid against a wall.

Threepio hits the ground with a metallic crash. For a second Rose thinks, after all of Threepio’s paranoia and anxiety, if this is really the end for him, she’s glad he isn’t conscious to witness it.

But just as promptly as he had gone offline, the protocol droid reactivates. He sits up sharply, his eyes glowing an uncanny red. The Knights simultaneously brandish their weapons.

Rose breathes heavily, eyes wide, squirming in Ushar’s grip.

“Threepio?”

Threepio’s neck twists towards her. He speaks in a deep, droning voice that clearly isn’t his own.

_“The Emperor's Wayfinder is sealed inside the Imperial vaults at Delta-4-6, transient 9-2-6 bearing 8-4, on a moon in the Endor System. Only this blade tells. Only this blade tells.”_

Then, just as suddenly as before, Threepio deactivates and drops back to the ground.

There’s an astounded silence.

Slowly, one by one, the Knights turn to look at Rose.

“So that’s what you’re after,” says Vicrul Ren.

Rose cringes.

There goes the mission.

* * *

“This way!” Poe shouts over the crossfire of stormtroopers blasting them.

He leads Finn and Chewie through the maze of hallways, heading back in the direction of the escape pod bay.

“How do you plan on finding this spy?” Finn asks.

“If they really care about us, they’ll find us first,” Poe says, shooting another stormtrooper up ahead. “They know where we’re going!”

He slides the trooper’s fallen weapon to Chewie.

“I don’t think that’s a very good plan,” says Finn nervously.

They shoot their way through what must have been a dozen corridors, until the troopers have flushed them away from the direction of the Falcon.

Cornered again.

“Wrong way!” Finn points out.

“There isn’t really a right way anymore!” Poe calls back, as he runs into a new corridor, blind with adrenaline, blasting at the next two stormtroopers he sees.

And he misses one.

He feels it seconds after its infliction, a searing pain in his upper arm. It brings him heavily to his knees with a groan of pain.

“POE!” Finn shouts, rushing to his side.

Within seconds, over twenty more troopers surround and very clearly outnumber them, aiming their blasters.

“Drop your weapons!” one orders. “Drop them!”

Finn slowly sets his blaster on the ground, and Chewie follows suit with a garbled whine.

Two officers emerge from one end of the corridor making their way towards them through the circle of troopers. One of them is an older, senior officer with cold, beady eyes that Poe’s never seen before. The other, of course, is General Hux, who stops short and pales at the sight of him lying on the ground.

“Hey, Hugs,” Poe winces. “Enjoying the Sith life?”

“Quiet!” He feels a trooper prod the back of his head with their blaster.

“Resistance scum,” sneers Allegiant General Pryde. “Did you really think you could sneak on board without us noticing? We even found your dirty little ship in the escape pod bay.”

“Where’s Rose?” Finn demands immediately. “What did you do to her?”

“Same thing that’s about to happen to you,” drawls Pryde.

“What do we do with them, sir?” asks another trooper.

Pryde narrows his eyes, like he’s relishing the moment. “Terminate them.”

Poe is violently hauled up by his arms, and _Force_ , it hurts. The blaster burn is getting worse.

He finds himself face to face with Hux. His expression is strangely unreadable.

The younger general turns to Pryde. “I shall oversee their termination.”

“Very well,” Pryde says dissmissively.

“There’s nothing _to_ see,” Poe hisses at Hux, as he’s being dragged away by the stormtroopers. “Unless you’re gonna make us dance like Ewoks—”

“Shut it, Dameron,” Hux snaps, but there’s something off about his tone.

* * *

_He’s so stupid,_ Hux thinks furiously, as the prisoners are shoved into a private chamber with a viewport. _Stupid beyond measure._

How dare he march through this flagship like he owns it, in all his long-lashed, fast-talking, scruffy-looking glory? Showing up and getting shot and earning himself an execution like the _idiot_ he is.

At this point, Hux doesn’t know what the hell he was expecting.

The rebels reunite with the small girl the Knights of Ren had found in the escape pod bay. It was a mistake, telling them to land there. It was a mistake, giving away his position. It was a mistake, probably, to have defected in the first place.

Hux could stand here, right now, and erase all of it. He could stand here, and let his men kill the rebels, kill Dameron. And no one would ever know the truth of his treasonous betrayal.

He sneaks a glance at Dameron again, who has his head held high, even in the face of death.

_i know you’re stubborn, sarcastic, and no matter how much you deny it, you care. you care in your own headstrong, murderous way._

It’s a sentence he’s only ever known from a computer under his bed. A sentence he wants to carve into his own skin just to keep it close to his cold, black heart. A sentence that makes it seem a lot less cold and black to begin with.

A sentence that had come from the man standing in front of him now, bracing himself for blasterfire to his back.

He’s real, and he’s alive, and he’s _right here._

In a split second, Hux imagines a future in which he keeps up his facade. His mind goes deathly quiet. Dameron’s words are silenced like a slit throat.

It’s overtly more terrifying than Ren speaking Shyriiwook.

 _If Dameron dies,_ Hux concludes. _The sentence is just a sentence._

So he takes a step forward.

* * *

“Thank gods, you guys are okay!” Rose cries as a stormtrooper leads her over by her cuffs.

“We were worried about you too!” Finn looks her over. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m great, actually,” she says. She leans in. “I got the location of the Wayfinder.”

“Really?” asks Poe, impressed.

“Don’t think that’s gonna do us any good right now, though,” Rose mutters.

The four of them are lined up in a row, facing the viewport.

Through the reflection, Poe can make out four troopers filing into the room and aiming their blasters at each one of them respectively.

When the door finally slides shut behind them, there’s a simultaneous click of safeties being flicked off.

“TR-0445,” says General Hux. “Your weapon.”

Poe turns his head slightly, and sees one of the stormtroopers handing Hux their blaster. He steps towards Poe, and they make eye contact over his shoulder.

He raises the blaster. Points it at Poe’s back.

“I warned you, Dameron,” Hux says steadily. “If you got caught, you’ll die by my hand.”

Just like that, Poe’s whole heart skips a beat.

It’s a line he’s only ever read off a screen, yet one he recognises immediately. It takes everything in him to not gasp out loud and blow his cover. He forces himself to tear his gaze away and face the viewport again.

“Poe,” Finn frowns. “What is he—”

It happens quickly, without warning. The sound of four blaster shots rips through the air. The room is lit red with flashes of blasterfire. The other three flinch, shoulders hunched, bracing for the pain, but Poe isn’t surprised that it never comes. The second he hears armoured bodies hit the floor, he whips back around.

The four execution troopers are clearly shot dead, but it’s as if Hux hadn’t looked away from Poe for a second. Their eyes meet a second time, and Poe feels an indescribable elation bubble up inside him.

“It’s you,” he breathes.

“It’s me,” says Hux.

His eyebrows crease, his storm-grey eyes darting back and forth Poe’s face, searching as if to say, _that’s all, that’s it,_ _what do you think?_

“It’s you?!” Finn and Rose say at the same time, in the same disbelieving tone.

Hux blinks himself out of his trance. “We don’t have much time.”

He drops the blaster and takes Poe’s cuffs in one hand. He flicks his wrist and a monomolecular blade shoots out of his sleeve. Poe almost laughs. He’s never found the presence of a knife so endearing before. Of course **_TR_ **would have a literal trick up his sleeve. He’s always full of surprises.

Hux slips the blade into the lock of the cuff and starts working it loose. Poe physically cannot stop grinning.

“I knew it was you,” he says.

“No, you didn’t,” Finn huffs.

Hux only spares a quick, somewhat irritated glance. “No, you didn’t.”

“Okay, maybe I didn’t,” he admits.

The cuff releases itself and Hux pulls it free of Poe’s wrists.

Their fingers brush.

“But I hoped.” Poe adds softly, so only Hux can hear.

Hux studies him carefully, a fresh array of emotions crossing his face, before returning to his painfully neutral expression.

“You shouldn’t have,” he says flatly, and moves on to release the others.

* * *

When they’re free, each of them pick up a blaster, and then Hux leads them down a different set of corridors.

“Your ship’s been transferred to an actual docking bay,” he explains. “You’ll have to hurry. It’s only a matter of time before they find that your bodies are still running around the ship instead of lying dead in that room.”

A small squadron of troopers march past, and they all duck behind a doorway to hide.

“Are you sure we can trust him?” Rose whispers to Poe.

“He destroyed Hosnian Prime,” Finn raises his eyebrows. “Millions of people.”

Chewie lets out a quiet, doubtful noise, FINN HAS A POINT. ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THIS?

Poe glances over at Hux, who’s keeping watch on the passing stormtroopers.

“I meant what I told him,” Poe says in a low voice. “He’s done terrible things in the past, but now if he’s willing to make up for them, I say we give him a chance.”

He looks up to see them still unfazed.

“Look, I’ve trusted him this far, and we’re all still alive,” he goes on exasperatedly. “So I don’t think I’ll stop trusting him anytime soon.”

Finn sighs. “Well, to be fair, this is the first time you actually know what you’re doing.”

“I still think he wants to kill me,” Rose says, darkly. “You know, I bit him on the finger once.”

“You know, I can hear you,” Hux says smoothly, without looking at them. “Save your gossip for after the fight.”

He emerges from his hiding place and keeps moving. Poe raises an inquisitive eyebrow at his friends and follows Hux down the last set of corridors.

Eventually they round a corner, but it’s like blundering straight into a Mudhorn’s nest.

A dozen stormtroopers, guarding the way to the hangar, turn around to face them.

Hux stops so abruptly that Poe ploughs into his back.

There’s a short pause. Nobody moves, nobody speaks. The stormtroopers seem gobsmacked at their General leading a band of armed, uncuffed rebels.

“General…?” one of them asks uncertainly.

“They’ve taken me hostage!” Hux yells.

Poe’s heart drops into his boots.

Hux is instantly pulled back into the fray of troopers, swallowed and shielded by the countless armoured bodies gullible enough to believe him.

Finn, Rose and Chewie have already started firing.

“Who’s the traitor now?” Finn shouts furiously.

Poe surges forward, shooting his way through the squadron, peeling his eyes for a flash of ginger or a sleek black uniform. But Hux truly seems to have vanished. He swears and spins around to shoot some more, but the blaster is knocked out of his hands by one of the troopers.

He grabs the one the trooper is holding, trying to wrestle it free. Instead it slips from both their grasps and skids across the floor to the other end of the hall.

Before Poe can recover himself, the trooper lands a punch on his jaw, and he stumbles back. He tries to hit back, but the stormtrooper catches his arm and squeezes mercilessly on the exact spot he’d been shot.

Poe cries out in pain and tries to pull himself backwards. But the trooper holds fast and lands a hard kick to his stomach. Poe doubles over, landing on the floor, his back against a wall.

The stormtrooper yanks him up by the neck and raises a blaster in his face. “You’re dead, rebel scum!”

But his finger never hits the trigger.

Out of nowhere, a monomolecular blade sinks into the trooper’s neck. With a gurgling cry, the trooper slumps dead to the ground.

Poe falls forward, gasping for breath, and two slender arms reach out to catch him.

“I thought you knew what you were doing,” says a rough, Arkanian accent.

Poe looks up and Armitage Hux’s face swims into view.

His blade and a good half of his sleeve is drenched in blood. There’s even a few crimson droplets scattered across his jaw. His lower lip is bleeding and slightly swollen. Locks of his auburn fringe fall indelicately over his eyes.

In a daze and despite his aching body, it’s undoubtedly the hottest thing Poe has ever seen.

“I...” stammers Poe. “I- I-”

“ _Kriff_ , Dameron, look at you,” Hux grimaces, crooking a finger under Poe’s chin and tilting his head to better examine his injuries. _He’s so much taller up close,_ Poe notices blearily.

“You came back,” Poe blurts out.

“I never left,” Hux says imperiously, waving his blade, and then retracting it. He gestures at a few of the troopers who are bleeding from the neck and ribs instead of smoking with blaster shots. “Good thing I didn’t too, or you would have gotten your pathetic arse killed.”

He turns back to Rose, Finn and Chewie, who stand among the fallen troopers, stunned beyond words. “Are you just going to stand there and wait to get shot? Your Falcon’s just up ahead.”

* * *

Hux leads them further down a corridor with a viewport to a hangar bay, where the Millennium Falcon sits in all her rusty, grimy glory.

“There she is,” says FN-2187. Apparently he’s calling himself ‘Finn’ nowadays.

Hux punches in the passcode and the blast door to the hangar slides open. It’s a miracle that it’s empty.

He urges them through the door, and Dameron is obviously the last one to follow. He’d been trailing behind, staring shamelessly, ever since Hux had saved him.

 _I must really look like shit,_ Hux thinks to himself, but now is not the time for vanity.

Dameron doesn’t go through the door.

“Go!” Hux growls. “What are you waiting for?”

“You,” Dameron says simply.

Hux considers threatening him through the door at bladepoint, but the way Dameron is looking at him makes the thought melt away.

“I can’t.” He sighs.

“I meant what I said,” Dameron says, moving closer, his eyes desperate. “I said I’d come for you, and now we’re here, and your chance of freedom is right through this door.”

“I can’t just walk away,” Hux insists, almost half-hearted.

“But you can’t stay,” Dameron argues. His voice breaks. “They’ll kill you.”

“Then it’s what I deserve,” Hux averts his eyes and looks down at his boots. “Your friends were right. I killed people. I killed an entire star system—”

“And now you’re saving millions more,” Dameron says. He takes one of Hux’s bloodied hands in his. “You said you had your reasons…”

He expects Dameron to ask him what those reasons are. He’s prepared to lie his way out. Instead, the pilot meets his eyes, and no one has ever looked at him with such compassion before.

“Think about those reasons,” Dameron says. “Can you do that for me?”

Images of his mother flash across his mind. Protecting him from _Brendol_ and his wrath. Images of her kissing his forehead, hugging him goodbye.

Echoes of a forbidden promise, and then the vision of Arkanis exploding. Night and nights of following despair.

Hatred for the Emperor, the Sith, unlike anything he’d ever known, rising within him like his own personal sun.

Hux swallows and slowly nods.

Dameron squeezes his hand. “Good.”

And he leads him through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO ITS BEEN A LONG FUCKIN WEEK FOR ME,,, just had my first few days of school and im already exhausted but what the fuck is new
> 
> i've decided i'll be writing and probably publishing a chapter every weekend unless i go on another unexpected tros rampage during the week. i feel like my stress has made me analyse my writing a little more harshly (as they say, you are your own worst critic and i am suffering because of it) so i apologise if the quality of the story has been degrading hhhhh
> 
> anyways, I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER!! this is the last bout of gingerpilot before the REALLY BIG REYLO SCENE (big in terms of narrative importance, not necessarily romance... yet) aka the MIDPOINT of the WHOLE STORY which i finished writing yesterday
> 
> so like i said on tumblr, take THAT jj abrams. rewrote half ur fuckin movie in a week.
> 
> we're almost there folks. hang tight and i'll see u next week!!
> 
> p.s. artists if you're reading this,,,, i would kill to see someone draw the scene where hux tilts poe's chin up to look at him,,, i had the image clear as day in my mind as i was writing it so if any of yall possess any remotely artistic talent unlike me feel free to take it as an art prompt :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back friends it's officially been the longest break between chapters wahoo  
> as always, thank you all so much for your lovely comments during the week, and i'm sorry i barely have the time to answer them all. i just want yall to know, i've read every single comment and i appreciate it so much. comments are literally the best writing fuel :'))
> 
> now, on to the highlights of tonight's chapter:  
> \- reylo's first saber fight!! (narrator voice: this is not what kylo had in mind when he suggested they trash his bedroom)  
> \- foreshadowing of dark!rey if you squint  
> \- rey IS, in fact, a nobody. but her past has a dark, complicated twist to it >:))
> 
> enjoy!!

It’s nothing like one of their training sessions. It’s nothing like sparring through the bond.

The way they’re fighting now, it’s all fire and fury and the bond is alive, alive, _alive_ , blue spitting blade meets red spitting blade, twirling and clashing again and again as they manoeuvre themselves around each other like they’ve been doing this since the start of time.

So far they’ve knocked over three different pedestals, Kylo’s bunk is seared in half and Vader’s helmet is lying neglected on the ground alongside his grandson’s, amongst the pile of debris they’d created.

It’s a dance of destruction and their goal is each other. Or at least, Rey’s goal seems to be for him to meet the same fate as his bunk.

Meanwhile, Kylo has been desperately on defense, swerving away from her lightsaber’s ruthless swipes and parrying each time she brings it down violently over his head. She’s fighting in a way he’s never seen before, so he’ll be lying if he says he isn’t the slightest bit unsettled. Or any less attracted.

Somehow, one of them had sliced a hole in the door to his quarters and they find themselves spilling out of it and into the empty corridors outside. The echoes of their sabers crashing together seem to go on for miles.

“What happened to ‘you talk, I listen’?” Kylo grits out, as she slashes at him again.

“You _are_ talking,” she snarls.

“You’re not listening,” He dodges another swipe of her saber. “You remember more than you say.”

“I don’t want to hear it!” she yells, her face contorting in anger. “I didn’t do it! I didn’t—”

She cuts herself off, as if she’d just swallowed poison.

“Say it,” he coaxes. “You’ve accepted who your parents are. This is your next step.”

“I’m not a child, _Ben_.” She spits his name like it’s a swear word and Kylo almost flinches. “I don’t need you telling me the steps I need to take because I know they’ll just lead to wherever _you_ want me to be.”

“I want you,” growls Kylo. “To see the truth, as I did.”

“And I want you,” Rey says scathingly, raining hits again, “To stop talking.”

For a while, he obliges, and they continue their deadly, mutual dance, moving forwards and back, pushing and pulling. The Force swirls around them with a familiar sort of tension. Eventually he finds himself backing her into an empty hangar bay.

As she pauses for a moment to catch her breath, Kylo realises; during the entire time they’d been fighting, she could have gone anywhere. She could have landed a blow to distract him and run off, to reunite with her friends and escape. Nonetheless, she stayed. She _chose_ to stay.

Perhaps it’s because whenever they fight they’re inevitably drawn to each other, the pull of the Force so strong that they probably couldn’t rip themselves away if they wanted to.

But Kylo can feel it - there’s something else emanating from her through the bond. Something else is keeping her with him. He senses her inner conflicts, and he’s nearly blown back by the absolute storm of emotions raging within her. Such chaos doesn’t exist in the light side.

There’s pain from the truth of her past. There’s anger for her parents, for leaving her like this, and for Kylo, the fact that he’s right even though she doesn’t want him to be.

There’s fear, most of all, engulfing her until there’s not much else left. It’s overwhelming, even for him, despite all the fear Snoke had instilled inside him all his life.

Fear of the truth. Fear of the past repeating itself. Fear of herself, growing and growing like a virus in her soul. It’s the root of her violence, he finds. It’s nothing like he’s ever seen—

He feels a massive _push_ in the Force, as he’s ejected from her presence. It’s grown so strong he hardly noticed he’d slipped into her mind.

“Out,” she hisses, eyes narrowing at him as she brandishes her blade.

Nevertheless, Palpatine was right. Her darkness is growing. And he needs to seize the opportunity. Now or possibly never.

He deactivates his blade.

* * *

“Back to square one, are we?” Rey clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “Reading minds without consent.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Kylo says quickly, which she doesn’t expect. He looks almost sheepish. “When we’re together, it’s easier… to feel you.”

She’s taken aback for a brief second, then her guard comes back up. If that’s his version of a half-assed apology, she’s not taking any of it.

“It’s funny, then, how you can’t feel my desire to cut you in half,” she says.

“But you won’t,” he points out, his voice echoing up to the high ceiling of the empty hangar they’re in. “Because you want to know. You _want_ to fight me for it.”

A small, _guilty_ part of her knows he’s right, but she’ll be damned if she ever admits it. She’s half aware he’s still backing her away, towards the open bay entrance where the cold void of space awaits her like jaws of darkness.

“You know who they were,” he goes on. “Unless you’re lying to yourself again—”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I am not!”

Suddenly Kylo’s mouth quirks ever so slightly, like he’s inciting a challenge. “Then _say it_.”

“They were traders from the _karking_ Goazon Badlands,” Rey relents frustratedly, because any challenge he poses her, she’ll take. And she’ll win. “They worked for Unkar Plutt.”

But the second the words are out of her mouth, she sees them. It’s not even a memory. It’s like the Force wants her to know… 

_Mother and Father, young and in love. They lived together in an abandoned Imperial shuttle. Mother was pregnant, they were lying together in a bunk barely big enough for two, and Rey can practically feel her own Force signature radiating from her mother’s belly. Slowly, their voices faded into earshot._

_“We’ll get out of here soon,” Mother was saying. “Just a few more years and our debts will be paid.”_

_“We can’t let anything distract us,” Father said. “You know that, right?”_

_“Of course,” Mother smiled and curled up closer to him, rubbing the swell of her belly. “Maybe she can come with us.”_

_Father smiled too, but it did not quite reach his eyes._

“You know what happened,” Kylo says.

He steps closer now. She has nowhere left to run. The icy, airless sensation of space presses up against her back, but she can feel his warmth from where she’s standing.

“They didn’t want me,” Rey says breathlessly. “They- they sold me because they couldn’t afford to take me—”

“No,” Kylo says. “Not _they.”_

_Five years later, it’s the day they’re leaving. They had packed up their little Imperial shuttle, and Mother was waiting outside._

_Rey grabbed her little pilot doll and made to go join her in the sands._

_A hand seized her, roughly, and yanked her back._

_“You’re not seriously bringing that,” Father drawled._

_“I am,” said little Rey, defiantly. “Mother made it.”_

_“It’s not going to survive out here, little one,” Father said, his tone full of something a little more malicious than boredom._

_Rey didn’t understand._

_“But what about up there?” She pointed up at the skies. “Aren’t we going away?”_

_Then, and only then, did Father smile. It was a terrifying thing._

_“Yes, we are,” said Father. “We just don’t know if there’s room on the ship.”_

_“Oh,” Rey said, downcast. She looked at the doll in her hands, and formulated a solution. She faced Father again. “Maybe he can sit in my lap!”_

_Father slapped her. Hard across the face._

_She landed with a grunt on the floor. Her doll flew out of her hand. She fleetingly glimpsed her own reflection in one of the tinted window panes. Three carefully twisted buns at the back of her head, her tanned and freckled face, painfully young. But at least this time Father’s slap didn’t leave a red mark on her cheek, like it usually does._

_She looked back up at Father in time to catch him checking if Mother had seen. Mother remained oblivious._

_“Where are you, my loves?” she called into the shuttle. “We’re going to be late!”_

_Father turned back to Rey._

_“You’re more foolish than I thought you were,” he hissed. “I suppose that just makes things easier.”_

_She still didn’t understand, but maybe it was easier that way. She could live in denial for the rest of her life. However long that might be._

_Wordlessly, Father grabbed her again and dragged her outside. Rey spared one last look at her fallen toy and decided - it was probably better off here than wherever Father was._

_“Sorry, darling,” Father kissed Mother on the cheek. “Our little womp rat was playing with herself again.”_

_To Rey’s relief, Mother picked her up and carried her. The safest embrace she’d ever known._

_“Oh, don’t blame everything on her, how many times have I told you?” Mother scolded. “She’s just a child.”_

_Rey snuck a reproachful glance at Father, whose face grew sour as soon as Mother had turned away._

_“So were we,” he muttered._

_They reached Niima Outpost by midday. The second Mother set Rey back on her feet, Father took her small hand in his, squeezing it a little too hard, like he was expecting her to make a run for it._

_“I’ll go pay Unkar,” he said to Mother. “Go find the ship, I’ll meet you there.”_

_“What about Rey?” Mother asked._

_“She’s coming with me,” said Father, eerily gleeful. “I want to show her how trading’s done, before we go.”_

_And he did, but Rey didn’t realise it until it was too late._

_“I have one last thing to sell, old friend,” Father told Unkar Plutt, his debts finally paid and his voice full of contempt. He hauled Rey forward so hard she was sure her arm would bruise._

_Unkar looked on with interest. “Who’s this?”_

_“Your new scavenger,” Father sneered, and let go of Rey so that she landed in the dirt._

_“What?” Rey cried. “No!”_

_Unkar did nothing for a moment. He lumbered away, and then returned with an armful of portions. “Sixty.”_

_Father smiled again, and only then did Rey understand. Everything fell into place, the truth tearing relentlessly at her heart._

_“You can’t leave me!” She threw herself at his feet. “You said if I was good I could stay with Mother!”_

_“Well, I lied, didn’t I?” Father said, in the same bored tone as before. “You’re very gullible, you know.”_

_He took the portions and considered it, almost casually. “I think I might buy myself a drink with this.”_

_Rey could only scream and thrash after him, as Unkar held her back, and as her father walked away from her for the last time._

_Not once did he look back._

A tear escapes her eye and runs down her cheek, where the ghost of her father’s abuse now lingers from her renewed memory.

Kylo’s smooth, gloved hand rises to gently swipe it away, caressing her face like he’s trying to erase her tragedies. He looks as if he’s despairing with her, for her. His lower lip trembles. Like it always does when he talks about Han Solo.

But he doesn’t understand. He could never understand. The sorrow she feels is not for her father.

_Father returned to the ship with nothing but a bottle of Corellian whiskey in hand._

_“Where the kriff is Rey?” Mother demanded, just as the ship took off. “What the kriff did you do?”_

_“She didn’t want to come,” said Father easily, and Rey has never felt someone lie as comfortably as him._

_“Bantha shit,” Mother said. She looked him over and a shadow of emotions crossed her face. Realisation. Horror. Outrage. Disgust. “You sold her.”_

_Father did not reply._

_“You karking arsehole!” Mother howled. “You never loved her, since the beginning. You were planning this all along!”_

_“So what?” Father scoffed. “It was a small price to pay, and now we’re free of slavery. We have our whole lives ahead of us.”_

_“Rey was a part of that life,” Mother jabbed a finger at Father. “She was a part of this family, and you took that away just so you could buy yourself a bottle of booze.”_

_“She’s a nasty little freak who can’t control her temper!” Father snapped. “Remember when she blew up the comms system we’d been trying to fix for almost a decade? Or when she killed that Teedo?”_

_“Who was stealing our parts!” Mother shouted. “She was just trying to help, and even if she can’t control whatever power’s inside her, that’s no reason to love her any less. She’s our daughter, for kriff’s sake!”_

_“Your daughter,” Father corrected icily. He took a swig from his bottle. “She means nothing to me, at least not anymore.”_

_“You’re a heartless coward,” spat Mother, recoiling from him. “Now I know I’d rather spend a whole lifetime down there with my daughter rather than a single minute anywhere else with you.”_

_She didn’t even let Father react before she turned to the pilot and said, “Turn the ship around. I’m going back.”_

_She didn’t see Father’s shell-shocked expression, or when it morphed into something dark and possessive._

_She didn’t see Father striding up behind her, his violent hands about to do what they do best._

_She didn’t feel Father’s bruising grip on her shoulder._

_The ship exploded before she could._

“I killed her,” Rey whispers. “My mother loved me and I killed her.”

She’s numb. Sound falls upon her ears like they’re a million lightyears away. Her vision is obscured almost entirely by her tears. She can tell that she’s looking up at Kylo, but his face is blurred, his hand has slipped from her cheek and she’s straining to comprehend what he’s saying. She feels like she’s six years old again. It’s all just too much.

“I killed my father even though he loved me,” Kylo murmurs. “And I tried to kill my mother even though she was my whole world. We’re one in the same.”

“One in the same,” Rey repeats, like she doesn’t know what it means.

“We’re a dyad in the Force, Rey. Two that are one,” Kylo says, and his voice is painfully intimate. “Palpatine knows this. He knew, from the beginning, that we were meant to rule together. Because of what we’ve done, the crimes we share. Our past, our present, our future, all of it.”

She can now make out around a hundred stormtroopers spilling into the hangar bay, weapons raised and aimed at her. She also sees six figures dressed in black, forming a line slightly behind Kylo, who seems to take no notice of any of this happening. He’s concentrated solely on her, and her alone.

“Rey.”

He holds out a hand, just as he had a year ago on the Supremacy, when everything was falling apart. Just like it is now.

“You know what you have to do,” Kylo whispers. “You _know_.”

Rey only looks at him, her tears falling freely now although she cannot even register the emotions that warrant it.

Over his shoulder, Rey swears she sees a faint, blue outline of Luke Skywalker, watching her with sad, doleful eyes. She swears she sees the apparition nod, ever so slightly. She swears she’s hallucinating, but even so, her hallucination gives her the answer she needs.

“I do.”

* * *

Immediately after the words leave her lips, a warm blast of thruster fire rises behind her. The Falcon.

Their time is up.

The ramp is lowered and the traitor (Finn, as he calls himself) is shouting her name and beckoning her to leave. Kylo forces himself to focus on Rey.

It’s her decision. He will not stop her from leaving. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. If she is to join him, it will be of her own free will. He just hopes it is now.

Because he knows if she steps off this hangar, they will continue being enemies. Perhaps forever. And Kylo is tired of fighting.

* * *

“Full reverse thrusters, Chewie!” Poe directs, and the Wookiee slams his hand to a button.

Through a small rear window, Rose and Hux watch the stormtroopers being blown backwards by the blast. Only Kylo Ren and his Knights remain rooted to the spot. Probably using the Force.

“Kylo Ren’s still standing!” Rose shouts to the cockpit. She narrows her eyes. “And so are his spunky little minions.”

“Was that full power?” Poe asks, bewildered.

THAT WAS FULL POWER. There’s a somewhat amused tone to Chewie’s voice.

“What’s so funny?” Poe frowns.

Hux barges into the cockpit, gripping the back of his seat. “Did you seriously think that would work?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, _General_ , I’m sure you’d be able to withstand a thruster blast from the fastest ship in the galaxy,” Poe gripes.

Hux mutters something that sounds suspiciously like an expletive.

* * *

When Rey turns back to face him, she doesn’t even have to say anything for him to know she’s made her choice.

He can see the goodbye in her eyes.

It hurts, of course. It always hurts. After all this time - on Starkiller, on Crait, and now with the truth laid bare - no matter how much they fought, he’s always hated watching her leave.

“It was good to see you,” he says defeatedly, under his breath.

She looks up at him, bathed in the pale blue light of the hangar, crescent tear tracks glistening on her cheeks like she’s harbouring twin moons. “You always see me.”

At first he thinks she’s referring to the bond. It takes him a second to realise it’s also the closest she’s ever gotten to agreeing with him.

Before he can respond, she turns away and makes for a running leap towards the Falcon.

“She’s getting away!” Kylo hears Trudgen yell from behind him, but before any of the Knights can move, he reaches out with the Force and freezes them.

It takes all his effort to hold them there, as he watches Rey throw herself into the traitor’s arms.

He holds them there, as the ramp ascends, and as his father’s old ship zips off into hyperspace.

He holds them there, watching the spot between the stars where she's disappeared from him once again. And it feels like an eternity, like he’s holding time itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: two fuckin weeks, guys. two whole ass fuckin weeks i worked on this chapter. i was having kind of a writer's block when i wrote this, but i needed to get the words out. so u know how u get the best ideas when ur in the bathroom? yeah. i locked myself in my bathroom for two hours and refused to let myself out until i'd written at least 2000 words of this chapter. guess what - i wrote over 3000. i also didn't initially plan for rey's mom to be all loving n defensive of her, i had planned for both her parents to be abusive assholes, but as i kept writing i sort of figured out on the fly that 1. it would be so much more tragic if her mother genuinely loved her and wanted to go back for her (and the fact that rey killed her regardless, of course) and 2. it would make rey a lot more guilty about it, which proves kylo right and drives the story forward to more interesting places hehe
> 
> never underestimate the power of your bathroom guys
> 
> also
> 
> me [writing]: "i want you" kylo growls  
> me [writing]: "and i want you" rey says  
> me: for the love of god can i just end it here


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome, my friends, to the second half of THE SKYWALKER ACTUALLY RISES IN THIS ONE.
> 
> i pray that after 10 chapters the quality of my writing has prevailed and that you all are still enjoying it.
> 
> here's what you can look forward to tonight:  
> \- another uwu reylo flashback. kylo's a fuckin DORK i love him so much  
> \- oh yeah, palpatine's here and he's a piece of SHIT  
> \- breaking news: knights of ren can SMELL the supreme leader's horniness for his jedi gf  
> \- rotj references!!  
> \- *banging pots and pans* GAY PINING

Kylo is striding into his half-destroyed quarters when the last of his mental walls comes crashing down. He freezes when he sees the streaked, charred bed, the broken shards of his pedestals strewn around his and his grandfather’s helmet.

Breathing heavily, he stoops down and puts his helmet back on, just as a horrible, sinister voice resounds in his head.

**_“You told her.”_ **

Kylo makes a harried attempt to protect his thoughts, but a split second of vulnerability is all Palpatine needs to rip further into his mind. He should be used to this kind of intrusion, but after a whole year without Snoke, he’d gotten used to _peace._

Big mistake.

He should have known it wouldn’t last.

The pain spreads from his brain and through his body like some kind of excruciating tumour. It ravages him so intensely that he has to brace himself on both arms and knees.

“She… she needed to know… the truth,” he gasps out.

**_“I told you to bring her to me. Only I can use the truth to turn her.”_ **

“I tried—”

**_“And you failed! Like you always do.”_ **

Kylo feels the grip on his body tighten, the tendrils of darkness snaking into the deepest depths of his mind. Where he keeps his uncle. His mother. His father. Rey. Where they’re supposed to be _safe_.

 _No, no, no,_ he almost whimpers.

**_“Pathetic boy.”_ **

“I’ll go after her,” Kylo says raggedly. “I’ll- I’ll kill her.”

The darkness laughs.

**_“Will you?”_ **

Its tendrils snag on a memory, glowing and treasured, exposing it to the front of his consciousness.

_It was a night, many months ago, when their sleep cycles had aligned for the very first time._

_He’d opened his eyes to find her lying beside him, facing him, her shadowy gaze raking his face and her breath on his lips._

_“Hi,” she’d said, sleepily._

_“Hello,” Kylo said, his heart in his throat._

_“You’re keeping me awake,” she told him, her hair spilling like tree roots over his pillow, tickling the side of his jaw._

_“You’re keeping_ me _awake,” he pointed out. “I_ _—_ _”_

_“Shut up,” Rey mumbled, closing her eyes. “I don’t want to fight right now.”_

_“But you_ — _”_

_He choked on the rest of his words as she slid her arm across his chest. Hooked her leg over his. Tucked her head into the crook of his neck._

_He’d barely dared to breathe, dared to move, dared to blink. Half of him wondered if she would throttle him in his sleep, another half wondered what would happen if he draped his hand over the curve of her waist, or on the nape of her neck, returning her embrace._

_Gradually, his curiosity settled for the latter._

_Rey hummed contentedly in response, hands fisting in his nightshirt, her head shifting gently with the rise and fall of his chest._

_She’d been so warm, so captivating and the most solid he’d ever felt her, as he traced a crooked line up and down her spine until she fell back asleep._

_He remembers thinking he could get used to this. He remembers wondering how he’d ever gotten so lucky to be bonded to her, out of everyone and everything in all of existence._

_What he doesn’t remember, as he pressed his lips softly to the top of her head, is the last time he’d allowed himself to long for someone as achingly as he longs for her. How, in that moment, he considered the possibility of bartering peace, or even defection._

_He’d kill and die for her. He’d douse the stars if it meant they could be together._

Then something snaps inside him, something wild and defiant and unexplainably strong. With that final burst of strength, Kylo wrenches his protective shields back up. Palpatine’s presence is blown out of the trove of his most precious memories and Kylo scrambles to his feet, backing away from a nightmare who isn’t there.

Even so, Palpatine lingers, cruelly pleased with what he’s found.

**_“There it is… perhaps Snoke was wrong. You are just like your grandfather. After all, you share the same weakness.”_ **

“She haunts me,” Kylo admits, desperate for anything, any form of remedy to get rid of Palpatine’s tenacious assaults on his mind. “She haunts me like the rest of my family. The only difference… is that she’s still alive.”

**_“And you think you have the will to destroy her? Love is not as fickle as you think, my boy.”_ **

Bitter and subjugated, he looks out at the stars through one of the viewports in his quarters. “What do you want me to do?”

There’s a pause, but the way the Force surrounds him is no less suffocating.

**_“Only what you are capable of.”_ **

And just like that, Palpatine vanishes. Kylo feels the tension leak out of his bones as the hold on his body loosens and fades. He manages to take in approximately three lungfuls of air to regain himself, before the Knights of Ren storm his quarters.

Evidently, they’d recovered from their state of immobilisation.

“What the _kriff_ was that?” snarls Cardo Ren.

“What did it look like, Cardo?” Trudgen says, like he’s not even surprised. “Master Ren let the girl go. Again.”

“I think we deserve an explanation,” says Ap’Lek coldly. “We might just be keeping score.”

Kylo slowly turns away from the viewport to face them. “I won’t have you question my choices.”

“Even if they go against the Emperor’s wishes?” asks Vicrul quietly.

Behind his mask, Kylo narrows his eyes.

It’s the first time he’s ever witnessed Vicrul speak up to him. He’s always been the most compliant of the Knights, silently efficient and often responsible for reasoning the others into submission. The fact that even _he’s_ starting to see through to Kylo’s weakness is treading dangerous waters.

He needs to be careful.

“My choices so far have not gone against any of the Emperor’s requests,” Kylo says. “I’ve received… a message from the Emperor.”

“A message?”

“There’s been a change of plan,” he continues, and then hesitates. “He wants me to kill the Jedi.”

Six masked faces silently observe him, and even though Kylo cannot see a single inch of their faces, he senses the savage eagerness flowing from his Knights in waves.

“Good thing we know where she’s going, then,” says Ap’Lek, her voice tinged with malice. “She’s looking for the other Sith Wayfinder. The one on Kef Bir.”

Without sparing a second, Kylo sweeps out of his quarters and starts heading towards the main hangar, the Knights in pursuit.

“The Endor System?” he asks, keeping his voice steady.

“The ocean moon,” says Vicrul. “It’s in a vault in the Death Star ruins.”

“We’ll ready the Buzzard—” says Ushar.

“No,” Kylo says instinctively. He stops in his tracks, fixing them with an authoritative gaze. “None of you are coming with me. Go to Exegol and prepare the fleet.”

The Knights _erupt_ into violent objections. Kuruk starts stabbing the floor so hard that sparks fly between the tarnished ground and the tip of his blade, while signing obscenely with one hand.

“We have always done your work for you!” Cardo protests. 

“What if the fleet is already departed while you’re gone?” asks Ushar.

“For the past few years, we have been separated,” Ap’Lek says. “Isn’t it time we took a mission with our master?”

Kylo tries to ignore them, but he feels an uncontrolled yank in the Force that has him stumbling back. Trudgen Ren has his blade raised, not high enough for it to be an attack, but not low enough to keep the threat out of his posture. Before he knows it, Kylo finds his own hand on his saber hilt.

“Remember what happened the last time you were alone with her,” Trudgen hisses. There’s a grim smugness in his tone that Kylo doesn’t like at all. “Or should I say, the last few _times_.”

Kylo stiffens. The other Knights abruptly fall silent. The Force swirls with revelation, so that he realises what Trudgen is talking about before he even says it.

“Don’t think we didn’t know about your little bond before,” Trudgen says, his voice soft and deadly now. “Your little dyad. It’s as loud as a Wookiee in a trash compactor. You reeked of it even halfway across the galaxy, before we even returned to you.”

“Trudgen,” Vicrul calls warningly.

“We know it’s true,” Trudgen continues. He closes the distance between him and Kylo, who has temporarily lost the ability to move.

It’s such a sly thing – the predator has become the prey. Deep down Kylo had known, since the beginning, Trudgen would take all pleasure in feeding on every last scrap of weakness Kylo ever showed, a dreaded embodiment of Snoke’s old teachings.

He should have dealt with this sooner.

“So tell us, _Supreme Leader,_ ” Trudgen says relentlessly, cocking his head, “Whenever the Force connects you to that Jedi scum, is the noise you make behind your walls from fighting her… or something else?”

That’s it.

He feels the tic in his eye, a shift of the most minute muscles in his face, and Kylo flings his hand forwards, contorting the Force to his will. Trudgen is slammed against the nearest set of control panels. He doesn’t even seem to flinch.

For extra measure, or maybe from complete, unbridled anger, Kylo ignites his saber and stalks closer. Kuruk steps forward, probably to stop him from hurting his brother-in-arms, but Ap’Lek knows better to hold him back.

Kylo reaches out again, and rips Trudgen’s helmet off with the Force, revealing the face of a tousled, blond older man, eyes bright with menace, and smirking like he’d caught the most valuable bounty in the galaxy. Kylo brings his pulsing crimson blade within inches of Trudgen’s face.

“Watch your tongue,” Kylo spits. “Before I cut it off.”

“Or maybe _you_ should be careful, Master,” Trudgen raises his eyebrows. “You’re starting to confirm our suspicions.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kylo sees the rest of the Knights watching him, surrounding him, as still as Nabooian sculptures. He brushes faintly against the edges of their minds, and to his dismay, he’s met with firm mental walls.

Which means, stars forbid, Trudgen is probably right.

Vicrul steps up.

“Master,” he addresses him quietly. “You know we have always been loyal to you. And you have never failed us.”

“No, I haven’t,” Kylo agrees. “I never intend to.”

“If you spare the girl’s life again,” Vicrul goes on. His voice is strange and serious. “You will have failed us. For the first and final time.”

Kylo turns and advances on him instead. “Is that a threat, Vicrul Ren?”

They’re face to face. The other Knights know better than to interfere. Master and acolyte, butting heads for the first time in decades. The tension in the Force is almost suffocating. For a long moment, Vicrul only looks at him.

“No,” he says at last. “It is simply a fact.”

Fuming, Kylo loosens his hold on Trudgen, and shoves past him to his Whisperer. He’s wasted enough time. Rey must be halfway to Kef Bir by now.

“If I find any of you following me, there will be consequences.” he tells the Knights, without looking back. “The Emperor is less forgiving than I am.”

* * *

He leaves them in the hangar, Trudgen on his knees, massaging his chest, and Vicrul silently watching the Whisperer depart as the rest of the Knights gather behind him.

“I suppose it’s back to terrorizing Hux,” sighs Ushar.

“No,” says Vicrul. He turns around. “Ready the Buzzard.”

“What?” Ap’Lek says. “Are you insane? He explicitly said not to follow him.”

“We’re not following him,” says Vicrul, laying an arm on Trudgen’s and pulling him to his feet.

“You heard the Supreme Leader,” says Ushar. “We can’t leave the ship. What if there’s a mutiny in the ranks, or something?”

Kuruk tilts his head and starts signing with abandon, pointing around them and then sliding his hands together.

“He’s right,” Cardo says. “Half our ranks aren’t even here anyway. They’re on—”

“Exegol,” Trudgen finishes roughly. “I assume that’s where our little trip will take us.”

“Yes,” admits Vicrul. “But—”

“Don’t try it, Vicrul,” Trudgen snaps, bringing his face close to Vicrul’s mask, his expression wild. “You’re the Supreme Leader’s annoying little pet. The only reason why you’d want us to go to Exegol is so we can do exactly what he’s asking of us. I won’t stand for that anymore.”

“Are you suggesting insubordination?” Ap’Lek asks in disbelief.

“Are you seriously surprised?” asks Cardo.

“He’s right,” says Vicrul softly.

Everyone turns to him. Trudgen frowns and draws back. “What?”

“Our master has grown distracted. I understand I may be loyal to a fault, but I do know when the fault grows awry,” Vicrul says. “It is time we learned some answers. From a different source.”

The Knights exchange looks, sensing each other’s emotions through the Force. It’s mostly doubt, but also great hunger for the truth and free will.

“How do we know we can trust you?” Trudgen asks, squinting up at Vicrul. “How do we know you won’t rat us out?”

Vicrul picks Trudgen’s helmet off the floor and tosses it to him. “Because you are my family. Kylo Ren is not.”

Kuruk stabs the floor in agreement, and suddenly all the Knights’ Force signatures implode with anticipation.

Trudgen’s grin blooms back across his lips. “Now, that’s my brother.”

* * *

Rey has not moved from her spot since they’d left the First Order.

Poe sneaks another glance from the cockpit. She’s sitting in a bunk, staring at thin air, her eyes glazed over and slightly bloodshot, like she’d been crying. He watches as she lays her palms in her lap, opening and closing her fist, again and again, with trembling fingers.

Poor thing. Not even Finn or Rose could get her to talk. She flinches whenever someone touches her, shrinking away from them as if she’s contaminated. Who knows what that beast of a Supreme Leader must have done to her.

Poe sighs and swivels his chair back to the controls. His injured arm bumps against a sharp switch on a side panel and he gasps in pain.

Chewie rumbles his concern. YOU SHOULD REST.

“Hey, don’t worry. I’m fine,” Poe assures him, but the ache in his arm screams its protest. He can barely move it.

“No, you’re not.”

Poe turns back around. Hux is there, leaning on the doorframe and watching him with a furrowed brow. His eyes dart from his arm to his face. Back and forth. Asking an unspoken question.

Poe can’t quite figure out what it is, until he sees a streamer of white gauze trailing out of one of Hux’s gloved fists.

_Oh._

His arm throbs again, but he doesn’t move from his seat. “I, uh—”

“Karking hell, Dameron,” Hux says suddenly. “I can smell the burn from across the hall and it’s absolutely intolerable, so will you stop being a stubborn arse for a minute and let me put you back together?”

Poe blinks. He shoots a stunned glance at Chewie, who chuckles and gets up from the co-pilot’s seat.

TAKE CARE OF HIM, the Wookiee tells a slightly cowering Hux, brushing past him and out of the cockpit. Hux waits, watching Chewie lumber out of view before turning back to Poe.

“What did he say?” Hux demands.

“He said don’t let any of his fur get in your trousers,” Poe says, gesturing at the empty co-pilot’s seat.

Hux scoffs and brushes the seat off as thoroughly as he can before sitting down. “So uncivilised.”

“What, you never met a Wookiee before?” Poe smirks.

“You’ll forgive me for avoiding a species that has a reputation for ripping people’s arms off,” Hux snaps. “I need mine to strangle daft Resistance pilots like you.”

“Or patch them up.” Poe quirks a brow at him.

Hux looks at him with narrowed eyes, maintaining the gaze, and then he tears open a packet of bacta with his teeth.

The sight makes Poe’s mind go irrevocably blank. It doesn’t even occur to him to roll up his sleeve, at least not until Hux does it for him, nimble fingers brushing against the circle of charred flesh on his arm. Poe winces.

Hux bends over slightly so he’s eye level with the burn. He removes one glove, dips two fingers into the packet and starts lathering it with bacta solution.

The relief is immense and immediate. A blissful sigh works its way from his throat as his arm reflexively shifts from the cool, numbing sensation of the bacta doing its job.

“Stop moving,” Hux instructs, through gritted teeth.

“Sorry,” Poe says. “It just feels nice.”

“That’s what bacta’s supposed to feel like, you idiot,” Hux says, but his voice lacks his usual aggression.

Poe hums in acknowledgement, and for a moment, as they start spiralling into an awkward silence, he allows himself to sit and watch.

Hux has his jaw set in his concentration, the strobing blue glow of lightspeed casting shadows of his eyelashes and cheekbones. He had also attempted to slick his hair back to his original hairstyle, probably using water from the Falcon’s fresher, but clumps of his ginger fringe are slipping down and over his face. Poe likes it better that way. It seems a lot more natural. He fights an urge to run his fingers through Hux’s hair, just to spite him, but also to free it from the stiff First Order standards. Vaguely, he wonders what Hux would look like with a beard, and he has to bite back another pang of attraction.

No. Not now. Just… no.

“You know, Hugs, you actually make a pretty good nurse,” Poe remarks.

Hux only scowls. “Don’t call me that.”

“‘Hugs’ or ‘nurse’?”

“Both.”

Amused and satisfied, Poe teases, “They teach you all this in the First Order School or something?”

“Arkanis Academy,” Hux corrects him. “And no. I learnt it from—”

He cuts himself off and pauses his ministrations. Poe stares at him.

“From what?”

“From observing someone else,” Hux says slowly, carefully. He gingerly continues the bacta treatment. “It doesn’t matter. They’re gone now.” 

Poe’s curiosity only peaks. “Who were they?”

“None of your concern,” Hux snaps. Then his voice softens, and his hand drops back to his side. “She was on Arkanis when it was destroyed.”

Poe sucks in a breath. _She._

Hux must have had… someone in the past. A friend, maybe. A partner. Poe is sympathetic, of course, but there’s a selfish part of him that can’t help his heart from sinking. All suggestive banter from their conversations as **_M-FALC_ **and **_TR_** must have only existed in his head. Gods, this is so stupid. He hastily shakes the thoughts from his mind.

“I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to lose someone,” he tells Hux genuinely. “My parents died when I was really young. They were pilots, so… didn’t really get to say goodbye. I’d do anything to go back.”

Hux looks up and meets his eyes. There’s a hard-edged, distant look in his gaze.

“Me too,” he confesses gruffly. “I promised her I would. After the war was won.”

He starts wrapping Poe’s arm in the bandage gauze. Poe feels Hux’s cold fingers holding the base of his arm as he tugs the material to apply pressure, and he shivers under the touch.

“But now there’s nothing to go back _to_ ,” Hux says, his voice as low as a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” Poe says again, and internally he slaps himself. Apologising shouldn’t be the only thing in his vocabulary. “I mean, who knows? Maybe she made it out alive.”

“If she could, she already would have.” Hux busies himself, almost pathetically, adjusting the bandage even though it’s already secure. His voice breaks, “She worked in a kitchen.”

Unprompted and driven by an incessant need to know, Poe asks, almost timidly, “If you could go back… if she made it out alive… would you go find her?”

“Without hesitation,” Hux says. His fingers finally withdraw from Poe’s arm and Poe can’t help but miss the proximity. “But I’m never going to get the chance. I was there. I saw the planet explode.”

“Oh,” says Poe, and for a moment they sit quietly, basking in each other’s state of mourning.

Then he frowns. Something doesn’t quite add up.

Starkiller happened a whole year ago. Why did Hux wait an entire year to defect?

“Hang on,” Poe shakes his head. “If you didn’t want Arkanis to be destroyed, couldn’t you just order them to stop? You’re literally the General.”

Hux squints at him. “Stars, Dameron, how thick can you get?”

“What?” Poe says. “Aren’t you talking about Starkiller Base?”

Hux closes his eyes in frustration and rubs his forehead. “I forgot you don’t know.”

“What do I not know?”

Hux takes a deep breath and draws himself up, suddenly back to the cold, cunning General the galaxy knows as the Slaughterer of Hosnian Prime.

“The Sith Fleet hasn’t just developed their technology. They developed the Death Star’s technology,” says Hux. “Now, all they need is a single starship to destroy an entire planet.”

Poe sits there, processing, for a minute that feels stretched into an hour. His brain tries to come up with a coherent, intelligent response, but he short-circuits.

“Ah,” he says instead. “I guess that’s why they’re called Star Destroyers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUN FACT I WANTED TO REPLACE THE WORD "DAFT" WITH ANOTHER SYNONYM BECAUSE I FELT LIKE THE SENTENCE WOULD SOUND BETTER, BUT I SEARCHED IT UP AND GUESS WHAT. "DAFT" CAN ALSO MEAN INFATUATED/IN LOVE WITH. I WAS LIKE, THERE'S NO WAY I'M CHANGING THAT WORD NOW.
> 
> ANYWAYS that was it, yall. 3555 words (i think) which is strange because this chapter didn't seem that long to me. i hope you guys enjoyed it and i hope everything makes sense thus far. feedback is greatly appreciated, especially since next week is chinese new year weekend!! which means i have a little more writing time over the long weekend wahooo
> 
> i'm currently writing chapter 12, but right now i can't bring myself to go forward because i'm at the scene where rey is in the death star vault and it's 10pm where i am and the way im writing it makes it seem like she's in a horror movie i cant fuckin do it yall im gonna have nightmares,,, gotta wait till daytime to write this rip im Bussy
> 
> welp, see yall next chapter!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back fellas! sorry i'm posting a little later than usual (it's chinese new year rip) but here is the longest chapter i have given you SO FAR
> 
> i have a feeling the chapters will begin to get longer and longer because i plan this story with scene cards so there's a chance i might start going by scenes now
> 
> things to look forward to this chapter:  
> \- rey being CONFLICTED asf and pulling a luke  
> \- JANNAH  
> \- threepio wakes up!!  
> \- resistance crew banter + hux!!  
> \- DARK REY

The scene of her parents bickering. The view of her small outstretched hand. The smell of burning flesh and ship fuel as flaming debris rains down onto the sand. All of it flashes through Rey’s mind, even as the Falcon enters Kef Bir’s atmosphere.

It’s as if her mind can think of nothing else. It’s as if, subconsciously, she doesn’t want to. She probably deserves it. After years and years of buried denial.

The darkness inside her stirrs and lifts its head, sniffing the air like some untamed beast realising its chains are gone.

Abruptly, Finn sits down beside her on the bunk, and Rey almost instinctively shifts away.

“Hey,” he says gently. “You don’t have to say anything, but before we land, but I just want to know if you’re… y’know… okay.”

Rey opens her mouth, fully expecting her words to die before they reach her lips, but instead she croaks out, “I shouldn’t have come.”

Finn’s concern for her only deepens, his eyebrows knitting together. “What do you mean? I thought we were past this.”

“You were wrong,” Rey says shakily. “I was wrong. I’m endangering the mission.”

“You’re not,” Finn insists. “Rey, you’re not. Look, whatever Kylo Ren told you—”

“Was the truth,” Rey insists. “The truth about my parents. What I did to them.”

“What do you mean?” Finn frowns.

“There was more. More that I knew and refused to see. All this time, I was lying to myself.” Rey stands up, facing Finn, her eyes wide. Everything is unravelling now. Her fear, her anguish. She takes a deep breath. “I killed them. I killed my own parents, and if I’m not careful I’ll kill you too.”

For a moment, Finn stares at her, taking in the revelation, shock and pity flitting across his face. He opens and shuts his mouth, again and again, like he’s struggling with his words.

“But… how did you—” he stammers, then he shakes his head. “No. Either way, I stand by what I said. That was all in the past, I mean, you must’ve been a kid. You’re different. You could never hurt us now.”

It’s as she expected. He doesn’t understand.

Finn, lovely, innocent Finn and his unwavering faith in her. He needs to realise that she isn’t the hero they all thought she was. She was never a hero, since the very beginning.

“But I could,” Rey breathes, her vision blurring with tears once more. “Like I could have killed Chewie.”

“But you didn’t!”

“I got lucky, we all did!”

“Sometimes you have to believe in luck,” Finn tells her, firmly. “Sometimes, luck is all we have.”

And just as if a switch had been flipped off inside her, Rey’s expression darkens. “Luck isn’t enough to control my power. I can feel it growing and growing and I can’t stop it. Sometimes I don’t even know if I want to.”

“That’s Kylo Ren talking.”

Maybe it is.

And maybe that’s not such a bad thing… 

She snaps back to herself, her prior frantic state, and shrinks away from him. Who knows where that thought could have led her.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she repeats. “I’m sorry, Finn. I can’t be a part of this.”

Tears threatening to flow, darkness like she’s never known clawing at her insides through grief and conflict and terror, she runs into the fresher, locking herself in. And she lets it all out.

* * *

Jannah’s never seen a shittier landing in her life.

Whoever’s flying that ship seriously needs to bring it into a shop. The landing gears are malfunctioning, and judging from the smoke, so is the hyperdrive. It crash-lands on a grassy hill not far from the clifftop shore, skidding across the soil so it leaves a thick brown trail in its wake.

“Come on,” she tells the rest of her friends, picking up her bow and quiver.

They set off across the plains on their orbaks, following the dirt trail, until they reach the peak of the hill.

“Do you think they’re enemies?” one of the riders, Aden, asks Jannah.

“Even if they were, I wouldn’t be concerned,” Jannah says. “Have you _seen_ the state of their ship?”

“Resistance, maybe?” Aden suggests.

Jannah watches as four figures come stumbling down the ramp. Two men, a small black-haired woman and a Wookiee. One of the men points at the ruins of the Death Star lying beyond the shore.

“How the hell are we gonna find the Wayfinder in that mess?” the man groans.

Whatever the Wayfinder is, Jannah has no idea, but she guesses that’s the reason why they’re here. Not enemies then.

Her hand slips slowly from the quiver at her waist.

“I’d ask Rey, but she seems pretty indisposed,” the small woman sighs.

The Wookiee warbles, GIVE HER TIME.

“Poe, we gotta get the Falcon working as soon as possible,” the second man says. “Whatever we decide to do, I don’t even think we can take off again in this state.”

“He’s right,” Jannah agrees out loud.

The four of them pivot to face Jannah and her entourage, blasters out of their holsters in the blink of an eye. Aden and the rest follow suit, drawing blades and guns and bows, but Jannah reaches out and pushes Aden’s arm down.

“Rough landing,” Jannah comments.

“I’ve seen worse,” the first man, Poe, says.

“I’ve seen better,” Jannah says. “Are you Resistance?”

“And who are you?” the woman asks, distrustful.

“I asked first,” Jannah says, narrowing her eyes.

“We’re part of the Resistance,” the second man confirms, slowly lowering his blaster. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

As if on cue, a fifth figure stalks down their broken ship’s ramp. A flash of ginger hair. Smooth black uniform. A nightmare in person.

Eyes widening, Jannah sets and draws her bow in a heartbeat, aiming the arrow between the newcomer’s eyes. There are gasps and curses from her friends behind her.

“Kriffing liars!” Aden shouts, his blaster back up. “They’re First Order!”

General Hux looks nothing short of confused and alarmed, and to Jannah’s amazement, he raises both hands in surrender.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” The man called Poe skids in front of the general, shielding him badly, since he’s much shorter. “Easy, he’s with us!”

“Do I know you?” General Hux asks her roughly.

“You don’t know us,” Jannah says coldly, refusing to back down. “But all of us know you, _General_.”

“You were First Order?” Realisation dawns on the second man’s face.

Jannah’s voice falters slightly, memories of her time beneath a helmet returning to her. “Not by choice.”

“That’s one of the best things about being a stormtrooper,” Aden hisses from beside her. “The higher-ups don’t notice you, so you can be anyone.”

“Defective stormtroopers,” General Hux sneers back. “Of course. That explains the terrible blaster arm.”

“I was a stormtrooper too,” the second man continues, his eyes gleaming. “I was FN-2187. I go by Finn now.”

“You?” Jannah says incredulously, and then pauses out of recognition. “You killed Phasma.”

Finn nods, still wary.

She gradually lowers her bow, as do most of the other riders. “I was TZ-1719. I’m Jannah now.”

“I joined the Resistance a year ago,” Finn explains. “What the First Order was doing just didn't feel right, so I deserted.”

“So did he,” Poe places a hand on General Hux’s arm, but he shrugs it off.

“I’m hardly part of the Resistance,” he snaps.

Finn approaches them carefully. “Point is, we’re looking for something in those ruins. And we might need a little help.” 

A murmur spreads through Jannah’s little rank. Someone whispers something to Aden, and he gives Jannah a small nod.

“Are you sure?” she asks Aden under her breath. “I don’t trust Hux.”

“He doesn’t seem to be in control here,” Aden quietly points out. “Besides, I trust _him._ ”

He gestures towards Finn, fidgeting anxiously before them, his blaster back in his holster and his expression nearing desperate.

“We protect our own, remember?” Aden whispers, shrugging.

Jannah sighs. He’s right. They’re really doing this, then.

She turns back to the four rebels.

“We can take you there,” Jannah tells them. “We have skimmers, but you’ll have to wait till first light when the tide is low. You’ll drown if you leave now.”

“We can’t wait till first light,” the small woman says impatiently. “We need to leave _right now_.”

Jannah raises her eyebrows at her. “In a rush, are we?”

“Unless you’d like to sit there on your pretty horses while the galaxy is being destroyed, then no, of course not,” the woman retorts, crossing her arms.

Jannah feels her lips quirk in the beginnings of a smile, despite the urgency of her words. “The galaxy’s been destroyed ten times over already, I hardly doubt it can get any worse than this.”

“Let me rephrase that,” the woman says, her voice calm but her expression exigent. “If you help us, there’ll be a galaxy _left_ to live in.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Not from us,” the woman says, casting a wry glance at Hux, who at least has the decency to look guilty. A weirdly nauseated type of guilty, but guilty nonetheless.

Off to the side, Aden gives her a little shrug. Evidently he’s thinking the same thing. If General Hux, the supreme First Order loyalist, has seen a flaw in the cause, _it’s got to be bad._

“We have parts,” she acquiesces at last. “In a shipyard not far from here. We can bring some back so you can fix your hapless ship.”

“Thank you,” The woman’s expression softens quickly.

“One condition,” Jannah adds.

“Name it.”

Jannah gestures at Hux with the tip of her arrow. “Keep him locked up or far away from me and my friends.”

Hux grumbles and rolls his eyes. The woman, on the other hand, grins widely and strides forward to meet her. _That,_ Jannah does not expect.

“I one hundred percent agree,” the woman says, loudly enough for Hux to hear. “He’s quite the asshole.”

Jannah laughs.

Both Hux and Poe say, “Hey!”

“I guess we have a deal, Jannah.” The woman holds out her hand.

Jannah reaches down and takes it. It’s small and warm in hers. Seems to suit her character.

“I suppose we do…” Jannah trails off, suggestively.

“Rose,” says the woman. “Rose Tico.”

* * *

Rey can hear footsteps pounding up and down the Falcon’s hallways. More than five. They could be intruders, but she hadn’t heard any signs of a struggle, and she thinks she can hear Finn, Poe, and Rose’s voices through the fresher door, speaking to an unfamiliar fourth one.

She’s too busy thinking about how to get away from them to wonder who they’d found. Her father’s words sound more and more practical, as she replays the memory over and over again.

_She’s a nasty little freak who can’t control her temper!_

She feels more and more like the doll she’d left behind. The one collecting dust on the shelf of her AT-AT. Like maybe she was fortunate to have been left behind with it. Luke’s words steals into her mind the same way it echoed through a sacred Jedi tree a year ago.

_I came to this island to die._

And he did just that. She wonders, instead, whether Luke left not only because he was ashamed, but because he was afraid. Afraid of hurting someone like he’s nearly hurt Ben. Afraid of being controlled by his own darkness.

Afraid, like she is now.

Rey stands up, her back to the fresher door. She looks at herself in the mirror. Her hair’s a mess. Her face is damp and smeared with tear tracks. She looks into her own eyes, deep and dark and bloodshot, when she realises she’s never known more about herself than she does now, yet she has never been less sure of who she is. Who she’s supposed to be. Who she wants to be.

_It’s time for the Jedi to end._

Maybe it is.

Maybe it should have ended a long time ago. With Luke.

She makes a decision, then. The same one her master did after he raised his saber over his sleeping nephew.

She takes a breath, and slides open the fresher door.

* * *

Threepio comes back online not long after they fix the landing gears.

“Oooohh,” he laments, sitting up slowly from the dejarik booth, startling Hux, who’s sitting next to him. “Where am I?”

“It talks,” observes Hux, mildly disgusted.

“Why, of course I talk!” Threepio says, offended. “In fact, that is my primary function, sir. I am fluent in over six million forms of communication—”

“Can we turn him back off?” Hux asks, reaching around Threepio’s head to twiddle with some switches. “He’s killing my brain receptors.”

“Oh, you have those?” Rose asks, batting his hand away.

Jannah enters the ship just in time to hear her riposte and sniggers at it. They exchange a fleeting, wicked look.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be so bothered if you gave us a hand, Hugs?” Poe calls, poking his head out from the vents below.

“I’ve told you, Dameron, stop calling me that,” Hux snaps. “And I’m useless at anything that involves so much as a pipe and a hydrospanner.”

“I’m not even sure you know what those are,” Poe smirks.

“Of course I do, you buffoon—”

“Then get down here and _prove it_.”

Seething and muttering a string of curses, Hux all but leaps from his seat. Rose vaguely hears him say “Anything to shut you up…” as he pushes past her to join Poe in the vents.

She doesn’t tell him there’s barely enough space for one person down there, but a part of her suspects that’s the reason he’s doing it anyway.

“He’s going _out_ as soon as he helps you with that!” Jannah shouts from the cockpit. “Out with the orbaks!”

Hux lets out another huff of annoyance, but immediately goes silent when he drops down to where Poe is.

Rose hastily adverts her eyes back to Threepio, who muses, “Who was that belligerent man?”

“Threepio…” she asks uncertainly, “What do you remember?”

Threepio pauses to look at her. And he pauses for a long moment, which is uncharacteristic for him. Rose has to wave a hand in front of his face to rouse him.

Her heart is already sinking. He’s probably forgotten everything.

“Forgive me, Master Rose,” he says. “I was simply pondering whether I should pretend my memory has been wiped so as to receive the affection you promised, but I have never been adverse in lying.”

Rose laughs, a tearful, joyful laugh, and hugs him.

“You don’t need to fake it,” she whispers. “You’re a kriffing hero, Threepio. You got us here.”

“Oh,” says Threepio, lost for words for a split second. “If I might ask, where exactly _is_ here?"

“Kef Bir,” Rose says, pulling back. “This ocean moon in the—”

“Endor system, of course!” Threepio finishes brightly. “I have had very good luck in Endor. I daresay the worst of this mission is behind us!”

“Yeah, you do that,” Rose smiles weakly.

Over his golden shoulder, Jannah exits the cockpit with another box of parts.

“Let me get this straight,” she says. “You guys are trying to find a Wayfinder, which will find you the way to this ‘Exegol’ place so you can prevent the end of everything?”

“It sounds a little more complicated when you put it like that, but yeah,” Rose sighs. “It’s like the map to Luke Skywalker all over again.”

“Oh, tell me about it,” Jannah plops down on the dejarik booth beside Threepio. “Kylo Ren went half mad going after it. He destroyed what must have been thirty computers in a week.”

There’s a snort of mirthless laughter from the vents.

“You don’t get to laugh at that, General!” Jannah shouts. “You’re no better than a womp rat’s ass!”

There’s indignant muttering, and a shushing noise from Poe, and then silence again.

“Anyways,” Jannah says, turning back to Rose as if she hadn’t just yelled at one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy, and gestures to the box she’d set on the table. “I found some parts for the hyperdrive, do you think you can install them?”

“Of course,” Rose reaches into the box, then pauses. Looks down at Jannah, cringing. “Actually, I can’t right now. The parts I need to replace can only be accessed from the fresher and it’s… occupied.”

Jannah frowns. “No, it’s not.”

Rose blinks, her heart skipping a beat. “What?”

“There’s no one in the fresher,” Jannah repeats. “I- Rose!”

Rose sprints down the hall and screeches to a halt in front of a very grimy, very empty fresher.

Jannah’s right. It’s like no one was ever there.

“Guys!” she yells. “Have you seen Rey?”

* * *

She uses the Force to lift the skimmer from the shipyard all the way to the water. She barely has time to steady herself when a wave picks up the little boat and tosses her onto another wave.

Water sloshes over the starboard side of the ship, sea spray in her mouth and eyes. Rey fumbles for control, trying to figure out the steerings, the skimmer wings and to get used to the currents. There are multiple times she has to use the Force to prevent herself from capsizing. She wishes she had Poe’s piloting talent, but it’s much too late for that now.

Eventually, yanking on a large steering rod and flipping a couple switches, she’s more or less maneuvering herself towards the ruins of the Death Star, towards where she knows there is a skeleton of a hangar bay, where there is at least one partially functioning TIE fighter that she can escape on.

Then she’s bound for some remote, off-the-charts planet in some nameless star system. The sooner she gets there, the better.

She’ll die before she leaves that planet again.

* * *

The hangar bay is full of broken, dripping wet TIE fighters that have not felt the airlessness of space for decades. They’re lucky the person who needs them is a scavenger.

Rey selects the least broken one and sets off, scaling walls and control panels, horizontal ceilings and vertical floors, picking out the various parts she needs to repair it. She moves smoothly from one area of the hollow tavern to another, her grunts of effort and the clanging of metal when her foot hits a ledge ricocheting through the half-drowned space station. Cold, dim beams of light shine through unknown sources, hallways that now act as tunnels and shafts, water streaming from it and into the ocean below.

Within minutes, Rey manages to fix up at least half the ship, and has one piece left to find. A rotating mechanism, preferably one from a chair.

She sets off again, for what she hopes will be the last time, padding through a shallow sea of puddles, through a slanted corridor lined with charred stormtrooper helmets. It’s a steep climb; she guesses she must be scaling some kind of tower.

She emerges through the other side, and into a large room, with spindly, broken windows, hazy blue light spilling through. She can hear the waves crashing onto the sea below.

There’s something unnervingly familiar about this room.

Standing beneath one of the massive circular windows is exactly the type of chair she’s looking for. Except that this one is much more exalted than she’d expected. It’s honestly much more of a throne.

She starts warily towards it, and then it hits her. Something, a dark, eerie call in the Force, summons her, drags her attention away from the throne and towards a wall beside it.

The wall opens up, heavy doors sliding open, revealing it to be not a wall, but a vault instead.

She can’t even stop herself. She doesn’t think she wants to. The darkness within whispers to her, mists of seawater drifting out as if trying to swallow her whole.

So she lets it, and she goes in, her quest for her final part forgotten.

The doors of the vault slide back shut behind her. Oddly enough, she feels no panic. At least, not yet. Something’s suppressing any semblance of agitation that could chase her away from whatever’s calling.

The inside of the vault reminds her of the mirror cave back on Ahch-To, except so much darker. Mirrors line the walls, acting even as pillars, and it’s arranged in a way where she can see herself from all directions. It gives her a prickling feeling that she’s being watched.

She slinks cautiously through the vault, heeding the irresistible, magnetic pulse of the Force. She’s weaving through another tessellation of mirrors when a small triangular glint, catches her eye.

Rey does a double-take and follows the reflection, rounding a corner to find the source of her pull.

There, levitating above a pedestal, is the Sith Wayfinder.

She shouldn’t be here. She should be carving out the mechanism she needs from the throne and halfway to some forgotten planet by now. That forcefully suppressed part of her is screaming bloody protest from the very depths of her mind, yet she finds herself drawn closer and closer to the glowing green device, her hand rising on its own accord to touch, to take…

Her fingers close around the Wayfinder. For a moment nothing happens, the device lies ominous and heavy in her palm.

Then gnarled, bony fingers curl out of nowhere and onto her shoulder.

**_“I know what you want.”_ **

With a gasp, she whirls around, her lightsaber flying from her belt to her palm in an instant. A cloaked figure looms behind her, and in the blue light of her saber, she makes out a wrinkled, deformed sneer from within its hood.

**_“I know all your fears.”_ **

She holds her saber up and backs away, voice trembling. “You know nothing about me.”

 ** _“Foolish child. I_** **am _you.”_** The phantom follows her, driving her further and further into the mirrored shadows. **_“I am your darkness.”_**

“You’re lying,” she hisses.

The figure only smiles.

 ** _“You have killed so many, hurt so many,”_** it croons. **_“Your friends, your family.”_**

“No, no,” Rey shakes her head, as if she’ll shake off the abomination prowling towards her. “I didn’t- I won’t—”

 ** _“You cannot deny the truth,”_** Its voice glitches between tones that somehow reverberate the past, present and future. Like they are words that have been said before. By different people, to different people, across generations and the ones to come. **_“Not anymore.”_**

There’s a flash, a thread of blue lightning suddenly pulsing between its fingertips.

It sets Rey off without thinking. She lunges forward and buries her blade in the figure’s chest. Even then, she’s still the only one fighting for breath. She’s the only one with fear splicing her own heart.

The darkness, on the other hand, does not stop smiling. It _laughs_. A cruel, terrible, victorious laugh, one that twists Rey’s insides, one that convinces her something’s wrong, even as it falls to the ground in a heap of black robes, the hole in its chest smoking.

It lies dead, as it was supposed to a millenia ago. Rey can finally hear the mounting instinct inside of her, telling her to _run, get out of here, right kriffing now!_ She’s wasted enough time as it is.

But her limbs are frozen. Her saber arm falters. 

There’s more to the story.

She chokes on a sob as the lump of robes begins shifting. Out of it, rises another figure, more beautiful and terrible and _powerful_ than the one before. It can’t be her. It just can’t.

Yet the phantom wears her face, and the voice that comes out of those blood red lips matches her own, just saturated with a confidence she knows she has never, nor will ever possess.

**_“Don’t be afraid of who you are.”_ **

Something bright and crimson comes ablaze by the figure’s side, and Rey brings her saber up just in time to block blows from an unstable double-bladed saber. Her dark twin spins its weapon in one hand, attacking relentlessly, chasing Rey to the edge of the vault.

She parries and parries with all her might, until her back hits the cold surface of the vault door. She finds a humming red blade edging towards the base of her heaving neck, the heat of it scalding all words from her throat. She watches the figure in silent horror, with its blood orange pupils and hollowed-out cheekbones.

It gives her one last draconian smirk, baring its teeth, before sinking its blade through her chest.

Rey feels no pain. Just fear.

_So much fear._

She blinks, and before she knows it, the vault doors slide open again and she’s tumbling out into the pale filtered light of the Kef Bir suns. She doesn’t even have time to check on the saber wound that isn’t there.

The Wayfinder tumbles out of her hand and across the sloped ground of the throne room. She gets to her feet in time to see it picked up by a black-gloved hand.

Kylo’s masked face observes the Wayfinder for a second, its fiery cracks glowing slightly in the overcast light, before he turns his head towards her. Immediately, the bond goes wild, like someone set it on fire. His emotions are so strong that she can’t identify them, she can’t even tell whether they are hers or actually his.

_Oh, gods._

He’s actually here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that's it for now! i hope the story isn't getting too chaotic or morally ambiguous for your taste,, i have way more exciting things planned nearing the third act of the film!! i feel like this is where the plotline REALLY starts to diverge and true feelings start to be shown *ahem* reylo *ahem*
> 
> or as luke skywalker once said, THIS IS NOT GOING TO GO THE WAY YOU THINK (but that's not necessarily a bad thing 👀)
> 
> thanks for reading and thank you all so much for your lovely comments and feedback!! see ya next chapter :D
> 
> p.s. if you wanna know what hux and poe got up to in the vents, click "next work" below ⬇️⬇️


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes. there it is. the longest chapter of this fic so far, the absolute hardest to write and the most emotionally charged with reylo feels. it feels so weird uploading it. i struggled so much doing the fight sequence but i feel like referencing the actual footage helped me a lot. my guidelines for this were basically: kef bir fight but 100000x hornier and angstier. i hope i lived up to that.
> 
> no highlights tonight,, just loads and loads of reylo angst
> 
> don't hate me

“I thought you were keeping an eye on her!”

“Well I’m _sorry_ for not being able to see through the fresher door!”

“Not like that, I mean, tell us if she came out!”

“I didn’t _see_ her come out!”

Hux rolls his eyes. He’s surprised they’ve made it this far in their little quest with this state of bickering. Resistance fighters are _so_ petty.

For the fun of it, he calls out, “Perhaps she used her Jedi tricks on your poor weak minds.”

This time, Dameron is the one to throw his bantha shit back in his face. “No offence, Hugs, but your mind isn’t any stronger than ours.”

“Excuse me,” Hux seethes. “You know I’ve had to endure Ren’s ridiculous mind probing for the past year—”

The mechanic, Tico, slams her fist into the side of the Millennium Falcon. “Everyone shut up!”

Dameron and the traitor fall silent where they stand in a scraggly circle along with Tico and the angry Bow Heathen who had threatened him earlier. Hux goes quiet too, where he’s eavesdropping from amongst the snorting and grunting of the orbaks. Tico brandishes the Jedi’s sling bag in her hand, the one and only thing she’d left behind. And her friends treat it like it’s the one and only thing that gives them the slightest hope that she’ll return.

“Fighting won’t help us find her. Rey isn’t some caged animal, even if she might be acting like one,” Tico says, rubbing her forehead in exasperation. “Do we have any idea where she could be right now?”

“Where the _hell_ could she go from here?” Dameron squints out at the vast horizons and crashing waves.

“Maybe she went looking for the Wayfinder by herself,” Bow Heathen says, shrugging. “I’ve never met her, but from what I’ve heard she seems like the type who would take on a mission on her own.”

“She’s right,” the traitor says worriedly. “She wanted to go on this one alone, before we insisted.”

Hux almost scoffs. They speak of the Jedi like she’s as much of a weapon as she is a treasure. He knows because it’s a vague reflection as how the First Order sees Ren. A rare, powerful, vessel of destruction that led their armies and mowed down the opposing ones. And when it malfunctions, even once, everyone else suddenly doesn’t understand it. He almost feels sorry for her.

Right at that moment, the other rider, (Adrian or Eden, his name was? Never mind.) Blaster Heathen, rides from across the field, his orbak’s hooves taking extra care to spray Hux with dirt as he passes.

Once Hux brushes himself off, he’s all for running Blaster Heathen through with his monomolecular blade. But Blaster Heathen stops in front of the small band of rebels and speaks, “Is it here?”

“Is what here?” Bow Heathen asks.

“The skimmer,” says Blaster Heathen, agitatedly. “Someone’s taken it.”

Everyone exchanges a look.

“Okay, that’s definitely Rey,” Tico concludes, pacing and gesturing wildly at the Death Star wreck. “But how does she know where to get the Wayfinder in this mess?”

“The Force, probably,” Dameron says, scratching his brow in defeated confusion.

“That’s not how the Force works,” The traitor nudges Dameron in the shoulder, and when he’s given a skeptical side-eye from literally everyone around him, “What? Han told me.”

“Hypothetically,” Tico goes on. “Let’s just say it is some Force-related thing. How are _we_ supposed to follow her?”

Dameron takes the bag from Tico and starts digging through it. “Maybe she brought one of Luke’s old books or something…”

There’s a telltale crinkle of ration wrappers. A lot of it.

“Man, did she save all these rations for herself?” he huffs. “Someone get her some real food.”

Dameron suddenly produces a whole _dagger_ from the bag (which Hux was absolutely not expecting), and as he holds it in one hand and continues fishing through the bag, it starts to look strangely familiar.

“Give me that,” Tico snaps, whisking the bag back and giving it a thorough patdown herself.

Now Dameron starts pacing, irritably tapping the blade of the dagger against his palm. “What if she left the rations with us on purpose. What if she knows we’ll need it more than her, because she’s not coming back—”

“Don’t say that,” the traitor winces.

They continue throwing frivolous theories back and forth, getting unreasonably stressed about it, when Hux’s memory comes floating back to him from the back of his mind.

“Hang on,” he says sharply and takes a step forwards.

Bow Heathen draws and sets her bow in a flash, but does not yet take aim. “Try it, demon.”

“Hey, come on, take it down a notch!” Dameron protests.

“Sure, I’ll go easy on the man who had me taken from my family and killed an entire star system,” Bow Heathen says, narrowing her eyes.

It hits him hard, although he’d been bracing for it.

“She has a valid point,” the traitor shrugs.

“She does,” Hux agrees, figuring the only thing preventing him from having an arrow in the head is the truth. He keeps his hands raised and his face solemn. “I know my crimes. And I don’t care what I have to do to make up for them, as long as the Sith fleet falls. Just let me bloody help.”

Bow Heathen hesitates, but slowly slips her arrow back in its quiver. “Whatever you do, you do from over there.”

Hux nods. “Dameron, pass me the dagger.”

Raised eyebrows all around.

“Oh, for kriff’s sake, I already have a dagger in my sleeve,” Hux scowls. “If I wanted you all dead, you would be.”

The remark puts a slight quirk in Dameron’s mouth, as he closes the distance between them and places the blade in Hux’s waiting palm. He begins examining the blade, then the hilt, then the crossguard.

“I’ve seen this before,” Hux muses. “It’s a Sith relic.”

“How did you know?”

He remembers meetings, of sitting around a sleek black table while his loathsome nemesis of a general does presentation after presentation to educate his fellow officers about ways to find Exegol.

“Pryde was mad for these. As was Ren,” Hux looks closer at the crossguard. “They used it to find the first Wayfinder.”

“How?”

Hux digs his fingernail into the side of the crossguard and a thin, curving sliver of an extension slips out as he pulls it. He holds it up for the rebels to see.

“I suppose they always suspected that there was a spy in our ranks, because they never actually got to that part,” Hux says bitterly.

Dameron is staring again. A bit of awe, a bit of disbelief. His mouth drops slightly open in a “wow.”

“Okay,” the traitor says, like he, on the other hand, is unimpressed. “So what does that do?”

“It doesn’t harness the Force to drag you all the way there, if that’s what you mean,” Hux snaps, using the dagger to point dramatically at the Death Star ruins, as a means to prove his point.

He’s so caught up with the underappreciation of his input that he doesn’t see Tico approaching him with a critical expression, until she literally rips the dagger out of his hand.

* * *

“Hey—” The general starts to object, but Rose keeps walking until she’s at the edge of the clifftop.

She’s seen this type of problem before. She’s solved similar things when she was training to be a mechanic. The dagger isn’t a tracking device, it’s a compass. A map. The final piece of a puzzle that was centuries in the making.

All they need to do to find it.

“It’s like connecting two bolts,” Rose explains, more to herself than to the others, who are following her down to the cliff edge. “The dagger is one part, the Death Star is the other…”

She holds the dagger horizontally in front of her face, closing one eye, and moving it slowly from one end of the ruins to the other. After a few stretched-out minutes, the blade slips into place and curved tip of the crossguard’s extension points at the pinnacle of a tilted tower in the distance.

“Stars, you did it,” Rose hears Jannah breathe in her ear, clearly in awe. She feels a blush of pride creeping up her face.

“You’re welcome,” she also hears Hux mutter.

“Great job, Rose,” Poe gives her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. He turns back, and Rose doesn’t miss the way he gently touches Hux’s arm. “You too, Hugs.”

“Let’s go find our Jedi,” Finn extracts himself from beside Rose, but maintaining a firm eye on the tower. “Hopefully the Wayfinder, too.”

* * *

Kylo stays gazing at her, through the pale blue light streaming in from the windows of the throne room, casting a misty halo around the crown of her head.

He’d been drawn to her, here, as she had evidently been drawn to the Wayfinder in his hand. He’d landed his ship on one of the ruins and spent his entire search convincing himself that he’d get the best out of this. Fighting her. Killing her. That maybe she was part of the torment that he felt, his weakness for her something Palpatine could prey on, ever since he’d exposed her to Snoke.

He tries to convince himself that it was her choice to come to him, but the fact that she’d come to him at all made him feel guilty. It was his mistake to open up to her, another one to add to the ever-growing pile.

Maybe he could have gone to Ahch-To, instead. Then they’d both be safe. Together. Living a life free of war and full of mysteries in the Force that they could spend the rest of their lives chasing.

Maybe, in some other life, he could have made that decision in time. He could have been happy.

But the moment had passed, long ago.

He’s made his decision, and if it leads him to a different path than hers, then so be it.

“How did you find me?” Her voice quivers as she asks it.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says curtly, his voice filtered from all emotion through the mask. “I’m really here.”

“I know,” she says, in a small voice, “I can feel you.”

This is going to be harder than he thought.

“I’m not here to talk,” he says, like a subtle warning. He could have ignited his saber and charged at her by now. Something holds him back.

Rey doesn’t move. Then he sees her throat shifting as she swallows, not in fear, but apprehension and regret of what’s to come.

“Neither am I,” she whispers.

There’s an unspoken question lingering between them, drafting from her side of the bond towards him; _Are you here to kill me, then?_

Hope is such a cunning, dirty thing.

Just like that, the influous, conflicted cacophony in his mind dies out to a single, unadulterated determination.

 _Only what you are capable of,_ Palpatine had said.

If he’s capable of convincing her to join him right now, then maybe he won’t have to kill her after all. If he’s lucky, the Emperor won’t too. Besides, she could have changed her mind, now that she’s had some time to deliberate the whole truth.

“The dark side is in our nature,” Kylo says gravely. “Surrender to it.”

“You’ve seen what I can do if I do.” Rey looks genuinely frightened now, and Kylo is immediately reminded of their experience on Pasaana. “I’ll kill you.”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“I don’t want to kill anyone,” Rey says, shaking her head. “This stops now. I’m leaving.”

She takes a step forwards, towards him, and he instinctively holds the Wayfinder away from her.

“The only way you’re getting to Exegol is with me.” He tightens his hold on the triangular device, his fingers caving in on the tainted glass where the glowing red dot blinks…

Rey doesn’t even flinch. She doesn’t cry out. She watches his hand, stock-still, then raises her eyes to meet his again. “Good thing I’m not going to Exegol, then.”

_What?_

* * *

“Destroy it. I don’t care,” Rey declares roughly. “All I want is to get away from everyone I’ve ever known.”

Everyone she’s ever _loved_ , she doesn’t say.

She doesn’t need to see his face to sense his confusion. “Why?”

Out of complete hysteria, Rey almost laughs. “So I don’t kill them too.”

“You can’t hide from this, Rey,” Kylo says, taking a step forward too.

 _You can’t hide from me,_ she hears him send down the bond.

“That’s what Luke did. And it worked,” Rey says, defiant. “So get out of my way.”

She starts striding towards him in earnest now, making to cut past him, but she isn’t exactly surprised when he reaches out and grabs her arm.

She tries to shake him free, but he holds fast, the empty visor of his mask boring into her eyes.

This stubborn, obstinate, _relentless_ man.

So much like his father.

Her gaze gravitates downwards and is caught on the saber at his belt. The blazing red image of it being speared through Han, innocent Han, the sound of her screams tearing from her lips - she feels it all again. But this time it distorts further, into the creature with her face, double-bladed sabers whirring in her face and right through her own throat.

She feels the darkness creeping in again, and she lets it, stealthy but unexpectedly welcome. _He did this._

And she knows, she _knows_ he can feel it too.

Spurred by the terrible recollection, Rey wrenches herself out of Kylo’s grip and swiftly activates her blade.

He meets it with his own, when she brings it down upon him. And as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if it were one of the moments when the bond connected them, they dive back into their awfully familiar routine of sparring.

Except that when she swipes violently at his chest, he has to swerve away instead of letting it pass through. When he brings his arm up she feels the vibrations of his pulsing saber instead of hearing the crack of training staves. When he manoeuvres her so that her back is at his chest and his weapon is at her neck, she doesn’t have time to bask in the warmth of his body before shoving him away.

He’s no longer on defence.

Their blazing dance intensifies tenfold. She sees the Wayfinder drop out of his hand at some point as they skirt around each other, up and down the sloped surface of the throne room. She registers aiming for him but slicing the throne instead, and out of a sudden remembrance for her initial goal, she tries to summon the mechanism she needs with the Force. It makes it as far as half the room before Kylo ducks in front of her, making her lose focus.

The rotating mechanism falls to the ground with a clang and slides down the tilted floor, disappearing down the shaft she’d climbed through earlier.

Rey lets out a shout of anger and does a spinning strike at him with all her body strength, flinging her saber arm out at his neck.

He avoids her move at the very last moment. She uses his moment of recovery to follow her missing part down the shaft.

Kylo leaps after her, the Wayfinder forgotten, and as he backs her out into the open, into the salty rain of ocean water, their dance ensues.

* * *

How Rey managed to steer one skimmer all by herself, Finn has no idea.

It takes him, Poe and Jannah to even keep the skimmer afloat. The current, thankfully, is in their favour, but the waves are a menace.

They’re drenched by the time they get there.

They slosh through the streams and streams of Kef Bir rainwater, until the pathways start sloping and caving in on them, wires hanging from ceilings that used to be walls.

“Almost there,” huffs Jannah, leading the way.

“Bucketheads, literally,” Poe shudders, seeing the various stormtrooper helmets strewn about the corridor. He takes Finn by the elbow. “No offense, guys.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Finn says, faintly.

It is admittedly unsettling to see helmets that soldiers like him once wore lying around like washed-out, rotting skulls. He contemplates vaguely if he had stayed in the First Order, if the Resistance won the war, he’d end up just like this.

But out of the mouldy, hollow helmets, there’s a shiny green reflection amongst one of the piles. No, not a reflection. There’s something actually _glowing_ in there.

Finn frowns. “Hang on.”

He stoops down, chucking the helmets, bolts and broken beams aside.

“Oh, man,” Poe says.

Finn stands up, lifting the little pyramid of a Wayfinder in his hand, a little red dot amongst the webbed green engravings, ever present, ever blinking.

“One down, one to go,” Jannah says, almost skeptically, her hands on her hips. “If this Wayfinder’s as precious as you say, why would anyone leave it lying around like that?”

“It’s supposed to be in a vault,” Finn remembers. “The Emperor’s vault…”

“Which means someone was here first.” Poe finishes the thought for him, and a shiver runs down his spine.

That’s when the sound of clashing lightsabers hits his ears. Horrified, he turns to the source of it, or at least in the general direction of it, and starts running.

Assuming Rey is the first wielder, it’s little wonder who the other is.

* * *

This time, Rey is the one who has dominance over the direction of their battle, her saber landing hard against Kylo’s, backing him further out on the open platform of the ruins that stretch out into the thundering ocean.

She can feel the Dark Side prowling through her veins, pushing unlimited power into her every strike. It liberates her, in a way she’s ever fought or trained before. She supposes because this is the first time she’s ever succumbed to it. Her movements are completely unhinged, she’s half-blinded by the flashing beams of red, blue and vivid violet whenever their blades interlock, but she doesn’t remember the last time she’s moved with such ferocity.

Apparently Kylo can tell the difference too. Or maybe it’s because he’s snuck himself back inside her head. The thought of that makes her bristle.

“The Emperor can teach you to control it,” Kylo says, his voice amplified by his mask over the spitting rain and sea.

“Like he taught you to control your darkness? To kill your own father?” Rey snarls. “I know how it feels. And I’ve had _enough!”_

She punctuates each word with a thrust of her blade. On the last one he stumbles, the wind catching in his cape and throwing him off balance. Rey grasps at the moment of weakness, carding her lightsaber through the air and down across his face. He sidesteps her blade a second too late. His mask sears diagonally in half, broken for the second time in its existence. The pieces fall away, clattering over the edge of the platform, the alabaster skin of his face bared to her sight at last.

She expects him to look angry, or smug, or taunting. She expects him to be hiding something he shouldn’t be hiding in the first place.

She certainly was _not_ expecting him to look at her the way he’s looking at her now.

Instead of a fury that matches her own, there’s that same desperation from Pasaana, a deep sadness written within his doleful brown eyes, the heart-wrenchingly familiar tics in his lower eyelid, the tremble in his chin. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t know them all by heart. She’d be lying if she said she’s never traced them absent-mindedly through the bond while watching him sleep for the third night in a row.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t going to miss them. 

* * *

Without the clouded filter of his mask, Kylo can finally see the wild glint in Rey’s narrowed eyes, he can finally sense the inky, spiralling darkness emanating from her presence in the Force. The way she holds herself, hackles raised, the ruthless way she whips her saber out at him, all of it expelling the remains of her light.

She’s more than halfway to the dark Empress he’d wanted her to be, yet he finds himself struggling to even look at her.

This wasn’t what he’d seen in their shared vision a year ago, when they’d touched hands.

This… this was never what he wanted.

Something’s not right.

Before he has the chance to figure out what, a faint shout is carried towards them through the rain and wind. “Rey!”

For a moment he thinks he’s the only one who can hear it, because Rey only has eyes for him, seething as she rushes towards him with her saber outstretched once more. They collide in another furious waltz, lightsabers twirling and crashing in clouds of steam.

He finds himself in a sturdy bladelock as the shout grows louder and louder, but before Kylo can maneuver himself to look, Rey shoves him violently away with her saber. She turns around with the same crazed look in her eye and screams, throwing her arm out at their interruptor.

Kylo can feel the force of her push even though he isn’t the one being hurled backwards. Bewildered, he recognises the traitor, sailing through the rain, landing further away on the platform where the pilot and an unfamiliar third party are there to break his fall.

He turns his gaze on Rey. Her body is heaving, not from fatigue, but from anger that he can’t seem to find the root of.

Even though her back is turned, he does not attack. Firstly because it’s out of his way to do such a thing, secondly because the more he watches her, the less familiar she becomes.

 _I don’t know you anymore,_ he thinks, as Rey turns back to face him, her mouth contorting in a sick, challenging sneer. _Not like this._

* * *

“Finn!”

He groggily feels Poe’s hand in his, hauling him back up. “Are you okay?”

Finn shakes the stars out of his eyes, groaning. “Please tell me that was Kylo Ren.”

He catches Poe and Jannah exchanging a miserable, unsettled look, and it’s enough confirmation he needs that he’d just been flung backwards by his own best friend.

Finn scrambles to his feet and watches in dismay as the battle ahead continues in a blur of red and blue. Eventually Rey’s figure turns to the gargantuan wave rising over the side of the platform, as high as a spire and definitely large enough to drown in. Rey hastily pushes her opponent back, leaping over a swipe of his saber and disappearing through the mists of sea spray. Kylo, predictably, follows.

“Come on!” Finn makes to pursue them, but Poe takes his arm.

“We can’t!”

Finn gapes down at his hand and then up at his face. “What are you doing?”

“You seriously wanna get in the way of that?” Poe points out at the distance, where Rey and Kylo had vanished. “We need to be careful.”

“I know—”

“You sure she’s your friend?” Jannah’s brows knit together in apprehension. “She doesn’t seem to be on our side.”

“She _is_ on our side,” Finn insists, jabbing a finger at her. “She always has been.”

“She threw you ten feet in the air.”

“How many times have you seen Rey do that?” Poe asks quietly.

Finn pulls his arm from his grip. “What the hell’s gotten into you?” 

“I’m not suggesting anything,” Poe reasons quickly. “I mean, maybe she’s doing what Luke did on Crait. Stalling for us.”

For a moment, Finn hesitates, and nothing but the far off crashing of waves and lightsabers can be heard.

“Look, we have the Wayfinder,” Poe goes on. “If Rey is still Rey, all we need to do is secure it on the Falcon and _wait._ If she’s still on our side, there’s nothing standing in her way except Kylo Ren. And she’ll come back to us. Like she always does.”

Finn’s face slowly warps into mild understanding. Jannah, on the other hand, has darker thoughts.

“And if she doesn’t?” she asks. “If she doesn’t return, what then?”

No one dares to answer her.

* * *

He has her in yet another bladelock. It’s the closest he’s gotten to her so far.

Through the steaming warmth of their sabers, Rey can see his hair is completely drenched, slicked over the side of his cheeks and dripping down his neck. She strains against the temptation to cast his saber aside, thread her fingers through his hair and yank his head back. (But she doesn’t know whether she wants to slit his throat or kiss it till it bruises.)

Instead, she releases herself from his bladelock with a growl and darts to the side, Kylo spinning around with her to continue his attack. They keep up their barrage, pelting each other with remorseless hits, with her trying to fight him over the edge of the platform and with him… with him trying to kill her.

(It drives her mad.)

He thrusts his saber straight towards her abdomen, to which she slams her saber horizontally downwards so that she’s deflected his blade hard into the ground. They’re both drawn into a crouch, so when they look up, they’re eye to eye, Kylo’s saber hissing at the contact with the cold metal beneath their feet, emitting yet another bout of vapor.

Through the smoke she sees a memory, one of their first and desperately familiar.

_The last time she’d driven his saber into the ground was when they had a wrist in each other’s hands, the snowy ground trembling beneath them. Seconds before she’d drawn a scar up his face, it was the first hint of their dyad, the first hint that they were equals._

She can tell by the look on his face he sees it too. He _feels it too._ The pressure beneath her saber subsides and she takes the opportunity to pull it back and make a running vault over the next wave that crashes over them.

She lands on the other side, and watches the wave envelop Kylo with a satisfaction she didn’t know she had. A small smothered part of her is pounding in objection and _concern_ for him, but the darkness locks it away and focuses on his retaliation.

His lightsaber emerges from the massive cloud of mist, followed by the dark silhouette of his body. As he strides back out to meet her, his expression fathomless, he flips the hilt of his saber in his hand to throw her a backswing.

Her insides twist with irascible anticipation.

* * *

His saber hits empty air, and freezes.

He looks up to find her open palm inches from his blade, the Force gripping it like a vice and then shucking it upwards. Her blade hits his, once, twice, dancing around each other again, until their roles are reversed and he’s the one pushing her straining saber away from his neck.

His heart clenches painfully when he remembers _it’s a trick he’d taught her himself._

_“Never let down your guard to your opponent,” he’d told her, strictly, with her stave in the same Force hold he has her saber in now._

_She’d used it to drag him closer, raising a playful eyebrow as she whispered, “And what if that opponent is you?”_

What if, indeed.

Now, she is utterly devoid of whatever playful state she was in all those months ago, as she takes advantage of his distraction to bombard him with another series of unceasing blows.

He parries them all at the very last minute, but now every hit seems like a message, his subconscious trying to figure out where he went wrong. Where _they_ went wrong.

She raises her saber over her head with both hands, _and he sees her, ethereal, a vision of snow and fury on Starkiller Base with her little scrunched up nose as she brings her weapon down over his head._

_It is you, he’d thought in a daze, as he laid in the melting snow in the aftermath. You were the one I’ve been waiting for all my life._

Rey pauses, blinking at him, in a similar daze as he slowly backs away to give her space. Had she seen his thoughts too?

She looks disoriented for a second, before she flips her saber and slices at him again. This time, it lands nowhere near his body, and he can feel, deep down inside her, she never meant it to.

_“You’re not alone,” he’d promised. He remembers giving everything he had to keep it._

_“Neither are you.” He can feel her mutual genuinity coursing through the bond, through their fingers over a warm, leaping fire._

Another hit.

_He remembers his fear for her when Skywalker walked in on them. He remembers the thrill running down his body when she’d first called him ‘Ben.’ He remembers wanting to kiss her in the turbolift, how close she’d been, how beautiful_ _—_

Another hit.

 _He remembers the feeling of her hand on his thigh, in a blazing red room, all he felt was power and heat and_ hope. _He remembers the disappointment, the desperation, the heartbreak, while tugging on one end of his grandfather’s lightsaber._

Said lightsaber lands another hit.

Rey stumbles slightly, strangely breathless. Something inside her _cracks._ Is it just him, or are his memories starting to meld with hers?

_He does not remember his lightsaber being reattached to his belt. A hand on his cheek. A kiss to his temple. A hushed apology as her presence slips further and further out of reach._

_He does not remember seeing his own sorrowful face looking up at the closing ramp of his father’s ship, doesn’t remember being so devastated yet so hopeful._

_He does not remember being so kriffing angry during their first Force bond after Crait, until he realises it’s not him._

_“You left me no choice!” Rey had spat in his face. “You chose your own path!”_

_“I did what I had to do to survive,” he remembers snapping. “Even since I was a kid.”_

_“You had a family who loved you!” she shouted. “I_ _—_ _”_

_She’d stopped herself short, tears finally falling._

_He remembers almost pleading her to say it._

Maybe if she did, they wouldn’t be dripping wet, at each other’s necks on the ruins of the Death Star. They’ll never know.

He blinks himself to reality, and before he knows it, Rey is charging towards him with a renewed strength, sheer wrath in her expression as she shunts his blade aside, knocking him right off his feet.

He slips, landing on the ground with a grunt, and Rey is quick to straddle his stomach. She raises her saber vertically above him, pinpointing a spot on his chest with the tip of her blade. He can feel the heat of it through his clothes, but his attention is fixed solely on her.

* * *

“You’re afraid,” she mocks.

She doesn’t have to rifle through his thoughts. He’s openly broadcasting it.

_“That you’ll never be as strong as Darth Vader!” she’d said then._

“That I’m not who you wanted me to be,” she says now. “That you don’t know who I am anymore.”

Kylo watches her, unmoving, the tic in his eye going wild. The clarity of it all steals in a little later, and that’s when she realises she can no longer tell where his mind starts and where hers ends.

“No,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m afraid that _you don’t.”_

* * *

Amidst the blinding blue beam of her saber, her eyes are full of bitter menace, but her nose is scrunched like it always is when she’s giving her all during their sparring sessions.

It’s a sight he recognises, and always will, it’s _her._

_“Yield,” she’d hissed, her stave at his neck, his back pressed against an unseen grass field on her end of the bond._

_He watched her, like he’s watching her now, eyes burning into his and nose scrunched up to oblivion. He ignored the stave pressing against the column of his throat and did the one thing he could think of to free himself._

_Leaning up, he pressed a kiss against the bridge of her wrinkled nose, indulging the soft gasp it resulted in, enjoying the way her skin relaxed and smoothed against his lips._

_Then he wrapped his legs tight around her waist and flipped them._

Rey lands beneath him with a cry of outrage, her back to the cold, wet metal of the platform, his thighs bracketing her hips, disarming her with a flick of his wrist.

His saber is already poised above her, illuminating her face with crimson light, so she has to squint under its pulsing blade.

But his hands start shaking.

_He’d bent down so his words fanned out in warm breath beside her ear, whispering, “You yield.”_

_There had been no mistaking her intrigue, but ever the scavenger, she refused to give in._

_“You,” she’d huffed stubbornly in response. “Would be headless by now.”_

_He pulled back and trained his face to regard her, unimpressed, “How does it feel to be beaten by a headless opponent, then?”_

_They dropped their staves at the same time, and just as Rey burst into a fit of uncontrolled laughter._

_And gods, watching her laugh was like watching the sun rise over the Chandrilan horizon._

She sure as hell isn’t laughing right now.

Kylo can barely see her face. He can barely _see._ It takes him a while to realise that his body is heaving, not with fatigue, but with quiet sobs, as the memory fades away into this harsh reality.

He’s glad the rain disguises his tears for him, because in a burst of anamnesis, he _knows_ he can’t do it.

He can’t kill her.

It may have taken him this long to accept, but now he knows for sure and certain _._ Chewie was right about him. About what he felt for her. He’d been so blind.

Palpatine’s words ring out in his mind, one last time.

_Only what you are capable of._

You know what? To absolute blazes with Palpatine.

His saber deactivates and slips from his gloved fingers, falling from where he’d held it over his head, falling freely like his tears.

He scarcely registers Rey reaching up and catching it mid-air.

_“You just don’t like losing, headless man,” she’d grinned up at him, from where her head rested against his shoulder, as they let their hearts beat back in the same, peaceful, synchronised rate. As one._

_“No,” he’d agreed, but his eyes were smiling so, so bright. “Unless it’s to you.”_

He stands by that.

Even now, as Rey thumbs on his saber, and sheaths it through his torso.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry
> 
> feel free to yell at me on tumblr @shruggyben


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has NOT been a good week for me, so i'm posting this a day early so i have more time to focus on the subsequent chapters. HOPEFULLY MY WRITING WILL GET BETTER.
> 
> the previous chapter might have been a beast to write, but this chapter was a beast to edit. i must have had close to like five different drafts in the past 2 days. fuckin wild
> 
> highlights!!  
> \- spoiler but not really: LEIA LIVES,, also maz has joined the chat  
> \- rey you done fucked up babe  
> \- physical contact,,, hhhhhhh  
> \- hux gets WOKE but rose has to translate
> 
> enjoy this fluffy/angsty shit

Leia Organa has felt pain many times before.

When her own father tortured her. When Alderaan was destroyed. When the galaxy found out the truth about her parentage.

The pain she feels now is identical to the pain she’d felt when Han died. Boundless, unexpected, transcending mere physical state.

Leia doubles over, dropping the headset she’d been holding and gripping the edge of the console.

Maz and Kaydel hurry over to her.

“General, are you alright?” Kaydel asks urgently, draping one arm around Leia’s back to steady her.

“I…” Leia breathes. “I just need to sit down.”

Kaydel pulls up a chair from the console behind them. “Here.” 

Leia drops heavily into it. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches the rest of the Resistance recruits watching her, suspicion and confusion written all over their faces, but she can't bring herself to care. She can't bring herself to play the part of the headstrong, dependable General she’s supposed to be. Her facade cracks down to its core and this time, she lets it.

"Take your time, General," Kaydel reassures her, and busies herself with getting the recruits back to work.

As soon as they’re alone, Maz steps forward.

Leia shakes her head and buries her face in her hands.

“It’s him, Maz,” she croaks out. “It’s Ben.”

“I know,” Maz sighs. “I felt it too.”

“I know there was a time I lost hope, and I know my boy has done so many stupid things,” Leia says, and for the first time in a year, she’s blinking back tears. “But I can’t lose him. It’s too much.”

“I know,” Maz says again, but mournfully. Like there’s nothing else to say.

Like there’s nothing they can do.

* * *

At first, Rey feels nothing. Then, a blinding, _excruciating_ pain in her lower right abdomen.

Exactly where she’d stabbed him.

Kylo falls back, the saber in his body pulling her up and along with him as he slumps against a dias.

Rey deactivates his saber to reveal a mottled, cauterised wound through a large puncture hole in his tunic. The small, suppressed part of her howls in anguish, clawing desperately at the inner walls of whatever emotionless box she’d locked it in.

Instinctively, she brings her hand up to touch the same spot on her own body, but it remains heaving with breath and intact as ever. Kylo, on the other hand, is barely breathing.

Why can’t she bring herself to look at him? She keeps her gaze fixed firmly on his saber in her hand, as she starts to feel something seep out of her soul. Something warm and significant and _whole._

It feels like her soul itself.

It’s like a part of her is dying too.

“Rey.”

He calls her name so softly, she can barely take it. She looks up at him through dripping lashes.

It’s as if he hasn’t taken his eyes off her for a second. He seems terrified to even blink. His breath comes in shallow bursts. His throat bobs with his effort to speak, but he doesn’t seem to have the voice to do it.

When she finally hears him, it’s because he sent it through the bond. It’s simple and honest but for all it’s worth, it makes her blood run cold.

_I’m glad you’re the last thing I’ll ever see._

Just like that, a switch is flipped back on.

Light pours back into her thoughts. The dam in her heart breaks wide open. The part of her that had been clawing at her now flies free. It takes no more than a whisper for her to know what comes next.

“Ben.”

Tears spring to her eyes as she wastes no time, scrambling into his lap and placing her fingers against the slightly smoking wound.

The wound that she had inflicted.

She squeezes her eyes shut, reaching deep within him and grasping the flickering thread of life. She chokes on a sob, as she realises - it’s not just his life - _it’s their bond._ And it’s breaking.

Now, she holds it tight, tighter than she’d held on to anything in her entire life, and _pulls._ Channels every single shred and sliver of energy she can find on the goddamn planet into this tiny fraying thread. Light from the sun, darkness from the caves and ruins, warmth from the Falcon’s spluttering thrusters, the cold sea surrounding them, life from her, from her side of the bond, even from Leia as she worries herself sick for her one and only son halfway across the galaxy.

And love - yes, love, Rey discerns - she pours all the love she’d kept stifled away for him into knitting their dyad back together.

No matter what path he’s on, no matter what he’s done. All she can see of him is the part that gave her his cloak when she’s cold, the part that comforted her on Ach-To, the part that killed his own abuser, strengthened by his compassion for her. The part that makes her unsure of whether he’s Ben Solo or Kylo Ren.

Now she knows, whoever he is, whoever he chooses to be, _she loves him._

She thinks she has for a while now.

Rey cups his face and presses their foreheads together.

 _There is no death, there is the Force,_ she thinks fiercely. _Be with me, Ben. Be with me._

A second later, she feels him take a deep, shuddering breath. Her eyes snap open to meet his, warm and amber and full of renewed life; his energy has returned to him.

Rey relinquishes her hold on their bond and finds it’s thrumming again, as strong as it’s always been. She lets out a cry of relief and withdraws to look him over for any further injuries, running her hands up and down his torso, over the cool skin of his neck, brushing his hair away from his face as his own hands chase hers.

“Rey,” he murmurs, but not without a hint of concern. “I’m alright, slow down, I’m alright.”

Her fingers finally reach the ridges of his scar, tracing it slowly. _Yes,_ she thinks, _this has been here long enough,_ and prepares to heal it, but he gently tugs her hand away.

“Leave it,” Kylo insists. “I deserved that.”

“But _—_ ”

He locks their gaze, and then brings her hand to his lips, kissing the inside of her palm.

Her breath catches in her throat, and she has no choice but to relent as she feels her entire body slackening under his touch. Even then, he doesn’t let go of her hand, and she doesn’t let go of his face.

They stay there, eyes drifting shut, basking in the moment, in the shimmering life of their bond.

Being held by him is enrapturing, to say the very least. The way the Force swirls triumphantly around them, the way his hand is soothing up and down the length of her forearm, the way their foreheads are tipped together like two stars aligning. Rey feels so much, yet it feels so… right.

Eventually, she’s the one who breaks the silence. She figures he deserves this much solace, so she answers a question he’d been asking her for days on end, since Crait, spilling from her lips in the form of a confession, “I did want to take your hand.”

Startled, Kylo pulls back to look at her. His tone is genuine, almost endearingly childlike, “You did?”

Rey nods, biting her lip.

“Every time you offered. But I couldn’t because I was always scared of what I’d become…” She trails off, the horror of her deeds starting to trickle back into her memory as she remembers what it feels like for the darkness to overcome her, to devour her whole and take hold of her actions. Her eyebrows crease together in a disturbed frown as she drags her fingers against the exposed circle of skin at his abdomen. “I think I know now.”

“No,” Kylo says immediately. He sits up straighter, shifting her in his lap as if trying to hold her impossibly closer. “That wasn’t it. That wasn’t you.”

“I _killed_ you,” Rey says, and the words taste sour in her mouth. “Just like I killed my parents _—_ ”

“You savedme,” Kylo admonishes. “I’m right here.”

“That’s not the point.” She wrenches herself away and stands up.

“Rey _—_ ” Kylo makes to follow but winces and grips his aching stomach when he tries.

“I’ve lost control,” she goes on, wringing her hands and shrinking further away from him. “I hurt you. I hurt my friends. I can’t do this again, I can’t risk it.”

She remembers her initial intention of coming here to these ruins in the first place. She remembers the purpose of leaving her friends without so much as a goodbye. She remembers her abandoned part lying in the shaft in the throne room, until she spots Kylo’s Whisperer docked on a platform not far away.

Kylo doesn’t need to follow her line of sight to know what she’s about to do. Every time they come together, there will always be a goodbye, a tragical pattern destined to repeat itself. His eyes widen as he shakes his head. Desperate, pleading. Hoping that this time it'll be different.

Her tears mingle with the rain on her cheeks.

“What more will I become if I stay?” she whispers.

He's never tried to stop her before (although this time is the first time he truly _can't_ even if he tried), so Rey turns and breaks into a run. She wills herself not to look back.

 _I’m sorry,_ she sends down the bond instead. _I’m sorry you have to watch me leave you again._

* * *

Poe lowers the macrobinoculars from his eyes, after watching Rey climb into Kylo Ren’s ship and exit the atmosphere. He stalks back up the grassy hill, where everyone else is waiting by the Falcon.

“Yeah,” he says grimly, handing the macrobinoculars to Finn. “She’s gone.”

“I thought she would come back,” Finn says hopelessly. “I was so sure..."

He lets the macrobinoculars drop to the ground.

“You all are ridiculous!” Hux bursts out all of a sudden, like he’d been waiting ages to do it.

Poe turns to him, bewildered.

“You’re treating your Jedi like some kind of super-weapon,” Hux accuses. “Like she’s your version of Starkiller Base, like she’s going to win the war for you.”

Finn all but flings himself at the general, and Poe holds him back before his fist can connect with Hux’s face.

“How dare you _—_ ” Finn wriggles furiously in Poe’s grasp. “What the hell do you know about Rey?”

Hux’s face remains collected. “In case you don’t recall, I happened to be the part-time handler of her opposing Force-user. Snoke had him on a leash, and had plans to kill him after he’d served his purpose.”

Poe’s mouth drops open. “Do you seriously think we’d kill her like the psycho Snoke was?”

“Of course not,” Hux snaps. “I’m simply proving a point. Ren was the First Order’s most previous cavalry. He did all the dirty work and was punished if he refused. You’re all acting as if your precious Jedi having an existential crisis spells the end of the world.”

“Rey isn’t a tool, she’s our friend,” Finn scowls.

“No, he’s right,” Rose says softly.

Everyone turns to glare at her. Even Hux is mildly surprised.

“I mean, the way you phrased that was wonky as hell,” She shoots him an affronted look. “But I think what he means is, we _may_ have been relying on Rey a little too much.”

“We just... believe in her,” Poe says, a little pathetically.

SHE MAY BE THE STRONGEST OF US ALL, BUT IN THE END SHE’S STILL HUMAN, Chewie rumbles, nodding at Rose. HUMANS ARE EMOTIONAL.

“Besides, she has the whole Jedi legacy thing to deal with,” Rose continues.

Finn’s eyes widen in realisation. “Oh, kriff. And the thing about her parents _—_ ”

“What thing?” Poe asks.

Finn hangs his head. “It’s not my story to tell.”

“Point is,” Rose says. “I just think we owe it to her to give her space when it gets… too much.”

“Then it’s just like what you said,” Finn looks at Poe. “We have to believe she’ll come back, whenever she’s ready.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Jannah speaks up, once again the voice of skepticism.

THEN IT’S HER CHOICE, Chewie says resolutely.

"If I do say so myself," Threepio points out, "The odds of winning the war without Master Rey are seven hundred and sixty-seven thousand, three hundred and forty-five to one _—_ "

“Are your brain receptors scrambled?” Hux squints coldly at the droid. “Who programmed you to think only Force-sensitives can fight a war?”

“Hate to admit it,” Jannah is still a good ten feet away from Hux, but she cocks her head like she can't believe she's saying this, “I think the Ginger General’s got a point.”

Hux coughs loudly.

“Okay, that’s new,” Rose teases her, eyebrows raised.

“I’m just saying,” Jannah crosses her arms. “If you guys are ever short-handed, my friends and I would be honoured to help you fight.”

“You would?” Finn asks excitedly.

“Yeah,” Jannah shrugs. She casts a rapturous side-eye at Rose. “We’ve been sitting on our pretty horses long enough.”

Rose beams.

“The fleet should be launching soon,” Hux reminds them. “The Emperor could give the command any minute.”

“We should get back to base,” Poe agrees. He starts back towards the Falcon. “I have a feeling Leia’s gonna kill us for being away for so long.”

* * *

They file themselves back into the Falcon, finally fixed after rounds and rounds of rebooting. Rose stops just short of the ramp, where Jannah is preparing to head back to her entourage.

“We’ll come back and pick you up,” Rose says hearteningly. She gives Jannah a playful nudge. “Get those pretty horses ready.”

Jannah huffs a small laugh.

“Thank you,” she replies, earnestly. “For giving me something to fight for.”

“What, threatening you with the end of the galaxy?” Rose smirks up at her. “No problem.”

For a second, Jannah just looks at her, with an innocent sort of adoration in her eyes. Then she reaches out and brushes aside a lock of hair that had fallen loose from Rose’s buns.

Rose feels her face flushing red, but Jannah’s already slinging her bow around her body and mounting her orbak. “See you on the battlefield, Tico.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love the idea of ben being tethered in some way to his two best girls - his momma and his gf <3
> 
> also,, guess who 100% WASN'T thinking about newt says goodbye to tina when writing the jannah/rose scene
> 
> feel free to scream at me @shruggyben on tumblr


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to this week's chapter!! wanted to post it, post anything in general, on valentine's day, but i ended up not having any time at all, so i just did a cosplay post on my instagram (@cosmicowlcosplay, if you wanna see... it's a reylo wbw cosplay collab hehehe)
> 
> anyhoo, happy belated valentine's day i GUESS - nothing particularly much about this is romantic, but we do have,,, much pining,,,,
> 
> HIGHLIGHTS:  
> \- ur daily reminder that leia LIVES and she LOVES HER SON and she ships reylo lol  
> \- THE RETURN OF OUR PANSEXUAL PILOT  
> \- ben is his papas little boy i have receipts  
> \- O NO REY BBY WHAT IS U DOIN

“Maz,” Leia says suddenly. “Can you feel that?”

The pain in her abdomen is gone, faded into a dull ache. The little light inside of her, one she’d been holding out for Ben, finally stops flickering and now shines brighter than she’d ever felt.

“He’s alive,” Maz says, giving her a warm, affirming nod. “Someone must have saved him.”

Leia reaches out with the Force and senses a speck of churning emotions speeding away from Kef Bir halfway across the galaxy. Emotions that are similar to her feelings for Ben - sorrow, concern, longing, _love._

 _Rey,_ Leia realises, with a pang of happy disbelief. _She loves him. She loves my son._

Before she can say it out loud, she feels a hand on her shoulder. It’s Kaydel.

“General,” she informs. “We have a new pilot volunteer who claims he knows you.”

Leia gets smoothly to her feet, empowered by a newfound hope. “Who is it?”

“An old friend,” Lando Calrissian strides out from around the corner, wearing his usual moustached smirk and long swishing cape. “How you doin’, Princess?”

“Lando!” Leia smiles wide and embraces him. “Oh, you are a sight for sore eyes.”

“She didn’t think you’d show,” Maz pipes in, crossing her arms and tilting her head to regard Lando with her beady eyes.

“I wasn’t going to,” Lando confesses, pulling back to place his hands on Leia’s shoulders. “But I decided to take your little Jedi’s advice.”

“Force be with her,” Leia sighs, patting Lando’s arm. “We need as much help as we can get, and every pilot counts.”

“I gotta say, I can see that,” Lando crooks an eyebrow and gestures around them. “Not to be a downer, but you guys look a little understaffed.”

“You doubting me, captain?” Leia shoots him a falsely insulted look. “Believe it or not, I have a plan.”

“You gonna tell me what it is?”

“Later,” Leia says. “When those wonderful, reckless kids get back.”

“They’re not back yet?” Lando frowns.

“They’re on their way,” Kaydel says, with an undertone of irritation. “Dameron _finally_ answered the transmissions.”

“Great,” says Lando. “I wanna see my ship again.”

“Of course she’s your priority,” Leia rolls her eyes.

Lando presses a swift kiss to the back of Leia’s palm before sweeping out of the room. “Always.”

“Technically, it’s Leia’s ship,” Maz reminds him as she follows him out.

“Well, technically, I had it first, and Han wouldn’t have won it if he hadn’t cheated…”

Their bantering voices fade, and Leia sits back down, drumming her fingers contemplatively on the armrest.

So this is what the war has come to. This is what fighting it will take. Reuniting old friends from an older war. Recruiting newer ones from younger generations. The last Jedi falling in love with the Jedi Killer, her own son…

It’s horribly poetic.

She has a feeling that when the Falcon returns, Rey won’t be on it, and despite her greatest wishes, neither will Ben. _It’s not necessarily a bad thing,_ she tells herself. _My boy needs time._ After all, he’s always been the sentimental type.

Wherever they are, as Leia looks up to the heavens and prays to the Force, she hopes they are safe.

She hopes the war will spare them a moment.

* * *

Kylo can do nothing but watch as Rey steers his ship into the atmosphere, vanishing into the blue-grey clouds, followed by the Millennium Falcon not long after.

He focuses on getting to his feet. The flaming ache in his side lulls to an ignorable state, enough for him to limp to the edge of a spire.

As he catches his breath, the rain eventually stops and all is silent except for the soft salty breeze weaving through his hair and the water gently lapping at the side of the ruins around him.

The first thing he realises when he starts thinking back to their angry battle is that she’d taken his lightsaber with him when she left, his hand drifting up to find his belt free of its usual weight.

The next thing he realises, inhaling sharply with a jolt of emotion, is that _she_ _loves him._

It wasn’t a confession to be said. It had been one to be _felt_ , one that, as he lay dying on the ground, she’d poured into him with all her heart. A feeling so strong it overwhelms him, so strong that there’s no way, in this galaxy or the next, it could be mistaken for anything less than compassionate, unconditional love.

His mind erupts in a series of questions he half-heartedly tries not to ask himself; how long had she felt this way? Had she just been waiting for the right time to tell him? Was she even planning to tell him at all? Why hadn’t he sensed it earlier?

He fails to stop himself from imagining the possibilities that could have ensued if she’d just _told him;_ if she told him on Pasaana perhaps he would have called off his fleet instead of chasing her away. If she told him in his quarters perhaps they would have had a much more intimate conversation. If she told him minutes ago, before they’d started fighting, he would have ripped his helmet off, strode forward and kissed her instead… 

His heart clenches for every lost scenario.

Perhaps, if _he’d_ told _her_ , if only he’d been honest with her about the one thing he’s hiding from her, they could have stopped fighting a long time ago. He would never have met this, uncharacteristic, feral version of her that had run him through with his own blade. He would’ve had the chance to hold her close, as he had moments ago, shielding her from her darker self _—_

That’s when the third realisation hits him. Now, after everything that’s happened, he’s no longer sure of what he wants.

Ever since he’d met Rey, he dreamt of her in all her glory, her strength, her power, siphoned from the Dark Side, just like him. For a whole year, he had visions of her, _of them,_ on a spindly, magnificent throne, hand in hand and ruling together. As equals in the Force and in life.

It’s a difficult image to let go of.

Seeing the true potential that the Dark Side had unlocked in her, he blames himself, even though there shouldn’t be a fault to begin with. He’s starting to think maybe he shouldn’t have pushed her, maybe he’d underestimated her. He’s starting to imagine what would have happened if she never came to her senses, never healed him.

He’d imagined death so much it feels more like a memory. He isn't afraid of it. He probably deserves it. 

The fact that she’d returned from such a dark place and still could harness enough of the Light Side to heal him - no, to almost bring him _back to life_ \- it makes his stomach twist in bitter regret, of the potential he could have lived up to had he a similar power.

For starters, his father wouldn’t have died.

Kylo winces as he reminisces the sight of Han Solo’s body skewered on the end of his crimson blade, the ghost of his fingers tracing a path where Rey would eventually carve her anger into.

He imagines what could have happened if _he_ had come to his senses then, realise just how much of a liar Snoke was, just how much he needed his father, how painfully he would suffer from it.

He imagines what could have happened if he’d caught his father in his arms, healing him as swiftly as Rey healed him.

Gods, he wishes Snoke had never come to him.

He wishes none of this had happened.

**_“It was all meant to happen.”_ **

Kylo slams his defenses down, but as always Palpatine tears right through, as if violently summoned.

**_“You thought killing the scavenger would stop me from invading what is yours.”_ **

The darkness curls possessively around him with a sneer, suffocating every hopeful thought it finds. The next time it speaks, it echoes in Snoke’s haunting rasp.

**_“I cannot be betrayed. I cannot be beaten. You have tried once before, by her side. You will fail if you try again.”_ **

“You’re wrong,” Kylo grits out.

He’s no longer afraid, nor desperate. He’s tired, worn and weakened, but he’ll be damned to hell if he stops protecting his mind now.

**_“Your mind belongs to me. As did your grandfather’s_ ** **_—_ ** **_”_ **

For the very first time, he wrenches himself free, with a strength he didn’t know he had. A sense of safety washes unexpectedly over him, cast by an unknown source from deep within the folds of his memory. As if something, or someone, is defending him.

Even Palpatine is fazed.

Kylo blinks and swears he sees someone, in rugged brown boots and a limping swagger standing a few feet away.

But then it’s gone.

**_“Still that fiery spit of hope. It will be your downfall.”_ **

Kylo lets out a hoarse cry and nearly falls to his feet as Palpatine injects a vision in his mind’s eye - it isn’t a memory, but it’s something he should have been there to see. To fix.

It hurts all the same.

_Leia Organa on D’Qar, leading the Resistance with a plan to take down Starkiller, appearing stout and purposeful to everyone who needed her, but on the brink of one of her many breakdowns as she speaks to Han Solo alone._

_“I know everytime you look at me you’re reminded of him,” his father says._

_His voice was full of implication, sour regret, unable to even look at her. This was what the loss of their son had done to them - ripped them further apart than they’d ever been, yet bringing them together at the darkest of times._

_“You think I want to forget him?” she’d asked. “I want him back.”_

_After all this time, hope was the one thing his mother had never lost. Hope to pick up the pieces of her family and rebuild it from the beginning._

_A second chance that Kylo did not deserve._

_Abruptly, the scene changes, and it is one he remembers. One he could never forget._

_“Snoke is using you for your power,” His father had never looked more despairing than when he’d approached Kylo on that bridge. “When he gets what he wants he’ll crush you. You know it’s true.”_

_There it was. The line that had undone him, unravelled his true emotions. Gave him_ hope, _amidst the conflict and darkness that Snoke - no, Palpatine - had instilled inside him all his life._

That’s the fourth realisation he makes, solidified further when he feels Palpatine’s mental grip slipping, fighting to control which part of the memory he sees.

His father was right.

All this time, Palpatine had been the one manipulating him. He had been the one to split his family into pieces and draw him into the Dark Side in the first place. And now, in the attempt to smother the slightest hint doubt, _crushing him_ had been exactly what Palpatine was doing.

Bantha shit.

This is _his_ mind, after all. _His_ memories.

He can play the same game.

“I’ll kill you,” Kylo growls.

**_“Hope is what killed your grandfather. Hope is what killed your father. You will be just like them.”_ **

Right before Palpatine sends him back into a column of his own darkness, Kylo shuts his eyes and concentrates. Concentrates hard on the doubt he’d been harbouring for the past decade, allowing it to spread and fester and glow, feeling the power of the light within the darkness. Hope within tragedy. A thought within a memory, which becomes just another dream _._

_He’s looking at his father again. His features were weary and aged, but filled with the same frustrating stubbornness that ran in the family._

_“Leave here with me, come home,” Han Solo had pleaded. “We miss you.”_

_Kylo looks down at the lightsaber in his hand, the light of the sun fading against his face. In the rafters, he sees the silhouette of Rey, watching him so intently her small frame almost hangs over the railing. And he thinks then, how in the world did he manage to go through with what he did while she was watching?_

_There’s no way he’ll let it happen again._

**_You fool,_ ** _Palpatine cuts in, and Kylo knows he’s winning. **This is not what happened. You are showing weakness.**_

_It’s not weakness, he thinks. It’s strength._

_He looks back at his father and smiles. The expression on Han’s face is priceless._

_“I know,” Kylo tells him._

_And then he lobs his saber over the edge of the bridge._

When Kylo opens his eyes, they’re starry with a defiance his past self would never have allowed him to feel.

Just like in the dream, vacant of its usual metallic weight and the burden of his crime, his hand is empty.

So is his head.

But the phantom that had been protecting him follows him out of the dream, as Palpatine’s presence fades.

“Hey, kid.”

Kylo freezes.

Tries to down the trepidation rising in his throat, tries to blink back the inevitable dampness in his eyes, and very magnificently fails. Slowly, slowly, he turns around.

The sight before him threatens to break him even more than he’s already broken.

Han Solo stands before him, exactly the same as he’d last seen him except very much alive, with eyes gleaming in sadness, affection and longing all at once.

“I miss you, son.” Han’s slight, crooked grin hits him like a spark of Force lightning.

“Your son is dead,” Kylo says, in a single breath, relaying the line from pure memory, pure instinct.

But this time, he’s the one mourning. This time, he’s not even sure who Ben Solo is anymore. It seems that shred of doubt is all Han needs.

The old smuggler walks forward, tentatively but in that awfully familiar limping swagger, and not once do his eyes stop searching Kylo’s.

“No,” he says. “Kylo Ren is dead. My son is alive.”

This isn’t real. Kylo knows it isn’t. The real Han Solo would have taken the first opportunity to tease him about the gaping stab-hole in his tunic, where a round patch of his pale exposed flesh can be seen. The real Han Solo would not have smiled in a radius of a thousand parsecs to him, because that’s what their relationship had come to in the end. The real Han Solo would not look this tangible, because Kylo bears the very hands that murdered him.

But Kylo also knows this is all he has left of his father, this perfect, inaccurate version, even as he calls himself out, his voice cracking, “You’re just a memory.”

Han’s smile does not fade, only softens. “Your memory.”

_I’ve always been here, with you. I always will be._

The first of his tears start to fall, as Han pleads, “Come home.”

Kylo shakes his head.

“I’m not who you thought I was,” he says, knowing for a fact this is true. “I’m not who you want me to be.”

It parallels Rey’s earlier words, quite beautifully and tragically. He understands now. He sees his own conflict in perfect clarity. All his life, he has either been Ben Solo or Kylo Ren. If he’s Kylo showing a hint of Ben, Snoke tortures him half to death. If he’s Ben showing a hint of Kylo, Rey leaves him for dead on his own burning flagship. The spectrum does not exist, so how can he?

“Ben,” Han’s voice snaps him out of his chaotic reverie. He looks his son dead in the eye. “You be who _you_ want to be. Which moof-milker decided you have to be all one thing?”

Kylo raises his eyebrows and nearly scoffs out loud. Han pauses and has the decency to look slightly sheepish.

“If that moof-milker was ever me,” he says earnestly. “I’m sorry.”

The apology hits a spot in Kylo’s heart that makes him reply on an old, signature, Solo compulsion, “I guess we’re both moof-milkers.”

_I guess we’re both sorry._

But his father’s right. After all this time, he deserves a chance to be who he really is. To figure that out, however long it might take. To be free, at long last.

Han brings his hand up to Kylo’s face, mirroring the one memory he spends the most time trying to forget. At first he thinks he’s not going to feel the touch, or it’s going to send a chill through his cheekbones, but his father’s caress is as warm and tender as the way he’s looking at him.

And that’s all he’s ever wanted. That’s all he could have ever wished for, even if none of this is real. The last of his tears trail down the length of his scar, and Han wipes it away without hesitation. _No more tears. No more guilt. Not for me._

“Dad…”

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence. Han Solo has lived his life knowing exactly how to respond to _I love you_.

“I know.”

* * *

Kylo closes his eyes and leans into his father’s caress, until the memory fades like the receding waves of the sea. A part of him never wants to open them again, to lose his father all over again. But a sense of determination washes over him, one that tells him he has to move on.

As soon as his eyes flutter open to meet empty air, his heart doesn’t even have time to skip a beat. He picks up the sound of transport engines buzzing through the clouds above him, and when he looks up, he recognises the hull of a First Order search shuttle, and then a dozen of them, scanning the landscape and the ruins. Searching for _him._

Kriff.

He’s been here too long.

With a stab of panic, he remembers the Sith Fleet is a thing that exists, and he’s the idiot who’s supposed to lead it, but now merely entertaining the thought makes him sick. He’s once again thrown into a frenzy of confusion, until his mind can only comprehend one word, barely rational, extracting it from the chaos from his thoughts, from the desperation not to fall back into a routine of nothing but darkness; _escape._

His blood racing, Kylo stumbles back into the inner cavern of the ruins where he’d come from. Rey had taken his Whisperer, and though he could never be mad at her, it leaves him without a ship to leave on.

Kylo skids into the skeletal remains of the Death Star hangar bay, as he’s pricklingly aware of the search shuttles flying closer and closer to the ruins, to where he is. Maybe he can find a ship that’s a little more functional than a bucket of bolts, one that’s easy enough for him to salvage…

His eyes sweep the countless mangled TIE fighters, most of them hanging by a wire, missing a wing, or even the entire goddamn viewport. Driven by desperation and delirium, he keeps going, past fighter after fighter, until one of them catches his eye and he stops.

It sits alone, but almost _neatly_ on the ground level of the hangar, easy to access and climb into. It looks almost perfect in shape, except that a panel in the underside of the cockpit has been left open. 

With a quick analysis of the open panel, he’s adept enough to figure that it’s missing one last piece to set everything together, a spinning mechanism, preferably one from—

His mind’s eye conjures the image of Rey cleaving the Emperor’s throne in half and following her extracted part down the shaft as he’d chased her, lightsabers blazing. He can practically envision her now, lying on her back underneath the ship, grime on her cheek, sweat on her brow, eyes glimmering with concentration as she tweaks with the wires. He can’t stop his bottom lip from quivering as his heart swells with both pride and sorrow.

This ship was _hers._

He reaches out. The mechanism flies from the shaft opposite the hangar and into his waiting palm, as the buzzing of the search shuttles starts echoing down towards him from the east side of the ruins.

He sheds his gloves, makes quick work of the ship’s underbelly. The pilot’s seat is much too small for his broad physique, but he crams himself inside as fast as he can and then he’s guiding the rickety TIE out of the atmosphere and off the First Order’s scanners.

Its thrusters are ridiculously loud, the controls are barely holding together, not to mention the cockpit reeks awfully of fish and rot. But the hyperdrive works just enough for a single jump.

It feels so strange, yet so enlightening, for the Supreme Leader to be fleeing from his own army. Especially since it’s an active choice (Kylo vaguely wonders what Hux must be doing in his absence. Probably enthusiastically planning a coup).

He sets course to the first unfindable planet he can think of. The one he knows but the First Order doesn’t. The one he razed entire galaxies to find. The one his spineless hermit of an uncle went to wallow in his shame for years.

With any luck, that’s where Rey is hiding too.

* * *

Rey enters planetfall with bile rising in her throat.

It’s not that she regrets her decision, but just being back here makes her mind go wild. It’s the last place anyone will expect to find her, should they try.

 _That’s a good thing,_ she tells herself firmly. _Makes it safe_.

She wonders how long she will last. She wonders how long she can retain her sanity. This is the first time she’s back here after… after everything. After knowing the truth.

She feels it in her bones that she’s going to know even more when she disembarks.

The Whisperer lands with a soft thump.

Rey sits in the pilot’s seat a little while longer, taking slow breaths to steel herself, before she pops open the top hatch and climbs out to stand on top of the cockpit. To swallow all thoughts of ever leaving. To get used to the environment all over again.

The binary suns are aflame in the distance, engulfing her in heat. The wind rolls out from the dunes to greet her. The downed Star Destroyer is embedded into the horizon, buried with layers of sand and unspoken history, acting as a navigational point and a time gage for the local scavengers.

Her muscle memory indicates her AT-AT shouldn’t be far from here.

Her tears evaporate the second they start forming, so she pays no mind and sets off to let the Sinking Fields feast on Kylo’s ship.

 _No crying,_ the wind, the sun and the sand seem to hiss. But it’s more of a demand than anything else. It sends a chill up her spine. She hates it, but at least now she knows she always has. At least now she knows she deserves it.

_You are home again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha haha haha ha ha ha ha ha ha hahahahah
> 
> psa: the next chapter is over 7k words long and it's chock FULL of emotions and callbacks and symbolism so i suggest you spend your week preparing yourself for it.........


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This was the Jakku of my childhood.  
> These were the borders of my life.  
> In this crumbling dusty shuttle,  
> with a trader and his wife.  
> Easy to remember,  
> harder to move on,  
> knowing the Jakku of my childhood is gone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the long awaited chapter 16!! a record breaking 8.5k words long!!
> 
> highlights of a work 2 weeks in the making:  
> \- rey faces her childhood!! much emotional baggage!!  
> \- BABY!REY  
> \- local solo man crash lands on ahch-to: report by fish nuns  
> \- LOCAL SOLO MAN ENTERS MIRROR CAVE AND SEES [REDACTED] [REDACTED]  
> \- local solo man vs his uncle: shade throwing competition  
> \- a scrap of gingerpilot after 94848592093 years,,, i suggest you read my one shot gingerpilot fic "stupidest man alive" for a little context  
> \- and they were co-commanders OH MY GOD THEY WERE CO-COMMANDERS
> 
> enjoy!! and pls don't die :))
> 
> p.s. if you can pick out any of the symbolism or a pop culture reference in this chapter, i'll name my first cat after you

Her home is exactly how she’d left it.

All her booby traps are in place (although she knows the other scavengers have heard too many a tale of her viciousness to stray anywhere near), her hidden leftover portions are rotting in a bottom shelf, dust drifting leisurely across the wall of days, each one carefully carved and full of what she now knows had been false hope.

The only thing different about all of this is the tremendous mounds of sand piling high against every available surface. Yet another collection of passed time, one she had not been there to experience, for the longest period of her life.

Nine months. Nine entire months she’d been away from home.

Gingerly, Rey dusts off the shelves, and among the settled sand she finds two things, fraught with memory and aged nearly beyond recognition.

The first is her Nightbloomer, or at least what’s left of it. The one she’d found sprouting in the scarce shade of Burke’s Trailing, the one she’d plucked in the attempt to beautify her humble abode, the one she’d brought home in the hopes that it could share its defiance to the heat, its determination to live. Now, it’s nothing more than a shrivelled-up patch of ash, so frail and bordering on nonexistence, that when she picks it up, it crumbles to the ground as greying powder from her fingers.

So much for hope.

The second, she recognises with a pang of apprehension, is her doll. The doll she'd carried with her throughout childhood. The doll she’d been convinced was the fruit of her own handiwork, despite a small part of her knowing all this time that there was no way a six year old could’ve had hands nimble enough for a sewing needle.

The doll that her mother had given her. Her own, dead mother.

Slowly, she reaches out to it.

_A flash of light, sudden loss of gravity, heat and pain, the ghost of a hand that never reached a shoulder, a scream that was barely given the time to rip its way from her throat_ _—_

Rey inhales sharply, squeezing her eyes shut. For a moment, she huddles in on herself, leaning against a rusted wall for support, whispering pathetic consolations to herself to ground herself back in reality. If she lets this darkness in again, she won’t last a week. 

When she reopens her eyes, the first thing she notices is the doll now clutched like a vice in her hand, its blank, dirt stained face mirroring her own, as if telling her, this is who she was, who she had been all this time. Left behind. Made from scraps. A product of lies she’d been feeding herself for years. And now she’ll never know who she would have become if she were free of it.

Rey stalks back outside, into the blazing sun, and suddenly, her feet are moving, carrying her step by burdened step towards a specific direction, like the doll is acting as some kind of compass as it sits limply in her hand. It’s not even the Force, this time.

She’s never been so disconnected with it in over a year. It’s an instinct that feels more inclined towards memory. She’s not sure she wants to know what she’ll find, but at this point she’s used to not having a choice.

She crosses dune after dune, her boots hitting the sand in a laborious trudge, on a path that another body had carried her down countless times for the first six years of her life. Sometimes slung over a shoulder like a sack of second-hand parts, other times cradled to a warm, beating chest, a slender hand stroking down her back in efforts to comfort her from an incoming sandstorm.

Rey wraps her arms around herself as she walks, familiarity radiating from the sands like the thick waves of heat, her breaths coming in short and sharp and untampered misery stealing back into her heart, but she wills herself not to cry. She _will not._ Her body has lost enough of what it needs to survive. She clenches her doll, throws her hood over her head and keeps going.

Eventually she reaches a trail of moisture vaporators, situated at least a mile apart from each other. She passes the first. The second. The third. Until the presence of her doll leaves her to her own devices to navigate the area.

She climbs one last hill of hot sand and _there it is._ A half-sunken, rusting, broken-windowed Imperial shuttle, nestled horizontally in the middle of the wind-tossed desert. In the middle of nowhere.

Yet she knows this place like the back of her hand. She always has.

That’s why it was so easy to avoid it.

It’s Kelvin Ridge.

It’s the first step she’d taken into the depths of denial. A mantra she’d repeated to herself over and over until she’d forgotten the reason behind it. All that was left to her knowledge, years after her parents absence, was that Kelvin Ridge was off-limits.

_“Stay off Kelvin Ridge.” She’d prioritised this piece of information, on any occasion she was lost from a day of scavenging and couldn’t find her way home._

_“Stay off Kelvin Ridge,” she’d told BB-8 the first time they’d met, without offering any form of justification._

It feels strange to know it now, a whole year later, even if it feels like a lifetime. Rey gives herself a moment to let it sink in. How far she’s come since then, since she was just an angry waiting scavenger, lying to herself until she’d been whisked off in the Falcon, met who she thought could be her new family, met the one person in the entire galaxy who was destined to understand her, to be with her, marking him as hers in their very first duel in the biting winter of Starkiller Base. She absent-mindedly touches his saber at her belt, a piece of him that she’d taken before she’d left Kef Bir. Probably the last piece she’ll ever see or have of him.

Is this what it’s like to come full circle? To return to her sweltering homeworld with what remains of her heart and mind?

She’s starting to think she doesn’t like full circle.

Rey caresses the open entrance of the shuttle with trembling fingers, her shadow stretched across what seems like the most broken sight she’s ever seen in her life. 

_This was the Jakku of my childhood,_ her thoughts come in the form of stilted breaths. _These were the borders of my life._

The wind coos to her like a mother in song, through the marred, darkened interior as Rey steps tentatively past the threshold. Greying light from the tinted transparisteel windows, shattered by over a decade of violent storms, cast upon the medium-sized, makeshift bunk at the opposite end. The ragged, scratchy sheets are covered in sand and thoroughly unmade. There’s a three-legged table in one corner, along with two chairs clearly wrenched from wherever the shuttle’s cockpit was, a few empty metal shelves that were probably once control panels, various piles of sand hiking up to the ceiling so she can barely see the other half of the ship.

She briefly considers using the Force to uncover it, but she has a feeling risking it would result in the whole of Kelvin Ridge blowing up, herself included.

She’s not ready for that yet.

So she sets her doll on one of the vacant shelves, crouches down by the bunk and starts digging through the sand beneath it with her bare hands. She shovels out what must be equivalent to five hundred portions until her fingers snag against something with slim metal bars. It’s small and light, and as she drags it out of the sand, it slides towards her in a smooth rocking motion.

Her breath catches. Her eyesights blurs. She sits back on her haunches as her barriers break and the first of her tears start to fall.

It’s a crib. 

It’s _her_ crib.

Cobbled together with leftover parts from Niima Outpost, Rey identifies the sides and the base made from spare pipes, and a layer of bedding woven from the softest scraps of fabric she’s ever felt, covered with a small blanket tucked nearly around the edges.

It’s very obviously made with love. It has to be from Mother.

She runs her fingers over the aged material of the blanket, wondering if she’ll be able to sop up any more memories from this, when something _crinkles_ under the pressure of her fingertips.

From beneath the sheets, she extracts a folded piece of paper, as yellow as the sand and as crisp as the heat. Rey unfolds it and discovers the words on it, scratched in diminishing ink. The handwriting is all too familiar, not because she’s seen it before, but because it’s nearly an exact duplicate of her own.

She dots her ‘i’s the same way. She crosses her ‘y’s the same way.

A vision takes hold of her, swift and sudden, but it goes hand in hand with each carefully written word on the paper. 

_“What’s that?” Father asked, frowning at the sheet of paper from over Mother’s shoulder._

_“Birth certificate,” Mother replied, her teeth gritted with effort as she steadied her hand. “Every child in the galaxy should have one.”_

_“Why?”_

_Mother finished another word and sat back in her chair, smiling to herself. “For memory.”_

_“Right,” Father looked over at the snoozing baby in the crib. “Too bad no one cares for birth certificates on Jakku.”_

_Mother stopped and glared at him with a genetically familiar sort of defensiveness. “I do.”_

_“Alright, then.” Father shrugged and retreated. “Have you even decided what to call it?”_

_Mother pondered for a bit. “I was thinking… Rey.”_

_Father scoffed. “Like that dead Rebel pilot in the Graveyard of Ships?”_

_“No,” Mother said. “Like the sun.”_

_And as if she’d known her parents were speaking of her, baby Rey stirred and started whimpering in her crib._

_“Ohhhh, no!” Mother crooned, abandoning the half-done certificate and rushing over. “My little girl’s awake.”_

_She rocked her daughter gently in her arms, until Rey’s blubbering and sniffling faded into the odd curious warble._

_“You’re caring too much,” Father winced, watching Mother from where he’s flopped back on their bunk._

_“She’s a child,” Mother said, nuzzling the side of Rey’s tender face. “Caring too much is exactly what she needs.”_

_“She’ll never be able to survive on her own,” Father said darkly._

_“Good thing she’ll never have to.” Mother lifted Rey up in front of her, smiling wide. Rey squealed and reached out with chubby fingers towards her mother’s face._

_Father watched them silently for a moment, before turning away, into the shadows._

_Mother crossed the room, back to the table, bouncing Rey on her lap as she continued her calligraphic endeavor._

_“What do you think, hm?” She patted Rey’s stomach contemplatively as she wrote. “One day you’ll grow up and you’ll be able to read all these words by yourself.”_

_Rey trilled back at her mother, waving her hands haphazardly in the air and slapping the surface of the table._

_“Don’t you worry, ner cyar’ika,” Mother pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll teach you.”_

_She took Rey’s stubby finger and planted it against the first word on the paper. And she started to read._

_Name: Rey_

_Date of Birth: 15 ABY_

_Place of Birth: Kelvin Ridge, Jakku_

_Height: 60cm_

_Weight: 200 portions_

Underneath the curly script lies a sketch of a bright-eyed, happy child, no older than two, drawn with a hand that knows they cannot afford a physical photograph, but wants her daughter to know that she treasures her birth all the same.

Rey is crying in earnest now, her tears falling from her chin, and she folds up the paper so she won’t stain the precious ink. So she won’t stain the memory.

This was what her mother had done for her, the first thing after she was born. Embody her excitement and love for the future to come, to spend a lifetime with her daughter, and in the end what did she get?

Death. At her daughter’s very own hands.

Rey can feel the Force building up with her despair, but this time, as she clutches the record of her birth to her chest, she doesn’t try to stop it.

Her grief manifests itself, shooting outwards with the Force. She _shatters_ what’s left of windows, granting ingress to the howling winds outside. The sand rustles at her knees and amidst the broken transparisteel.

Hopeless, whimpering softly just like she had eighteen years ago, she clambers into her parents’ bunk and lies there. She reaches down, instinctively, like she always does every night in her bunk at the Resistance base, to bring Kylo’s cloak up and around her body, to feel its comforting black weight around her arms, to pretend that it’s _his_ weight she feels as a comfort for her nightmares. But her hands close in on thin air, and she lets it fall limply to the side instead. It’s not here. _He’s_ not here.

No one’s here. And her nightmares are real.

She’s never felt so alone.

And she’s never hated herself more.

* * *

The hyperdrive gives out the second Kylo hits Ahch-To’s atmosphere.

On one hand he’s a little dismayed that he can’t sense Rey’s Force signature, which means Ahch-To wasn’t her chosen place of hiding. On another, he’s seconds away from crash-landing on the island, the vintage TIE Fighter screaming towards the surface of the planet, the tips of the wings flaming up under the gravity of his fall.

The latter is probably more to be concerned about.

Kylo grips the controls and _pulls,_ steering the ship slightly off course so it careens right past the island and into the ocean instead.

He barely has time to brace himself for the impact before the ship hits the water with more of a crash than a splash. He registers one of the wings being torn right off by a savage wave, before water starts flooding into the puny cockpit. He can feel it filling into his clothes through the hole in his tunic. Thinking as fast as the ship is sinking, he unclasps his cape and leaves it behind, placing one hand against the cold surface of the viewport. The water is up to his neck and rising fast. Kylo takes one last gulp of air and dives underwater, focusing on his hand. He summons all his strength and pushes out with the Force.

The viewport shatters. Kylo immediately kicks himself free of the ship and ascends to the surface of the sea. He breaks the surface for air, gasping and choking as another wave crashes over him, forcing salty water into his lungs. He makes for the nearest shore of the island, the long black beach, but the tide is shoving him towards the edge of the island, towards a cavernous opening in the rocks.

He shivers; his instinct tells him it’s nothing to do with the cold. Something grey and strangely familiar tugs at his presence, and he can’t help but let himself be pulled nearer towards it.

The sound of the water begins echoing, lapping against the side of the cave walls as Kylo enters. The current dies down right afterwards, and Kylo swims towards what he makes out to be a rocky platform across the small cave lagoon.

He hauls himself out of the water, coughing his lungs out, stripping off his belt, outer tunic and arm sleeves to dry off. Soon he’s left in nothing but his boots, his trousers and his loose undershirt, as he wraps his arms around himself, trembling violently.

Kylo turns around, stiff with cold, scanning for a way to the surface of the island, where he could maybe light a fire and start sorting himself out. His mind… stars, his mind is a mess right now.

The treacherous guilt he’d harboured for the death of his father has dissipated into a bittersweet freedom, his presence in the Force balancing on the edge of a knife, but what is that supposed to call for? Even if he wanted to withdraw his armies from the war, the First Order would be under Palpatine’s command by now, and like _hell_ he’s going to defect to the Resistance (there’s a part of him that knows he isn’t ready to face his mother yet).

Kylo mutters a sarcastic thanks to his dad, for his inherited Solo-esque inability to think things through, kicking aside a pile of rocks in his frustration. And as if Han’s spirit is really there to get back at him, the wet sole of his boot slips on the smooth ground and he keels forwards, his hand landing on the stone wall of the cave to brace himself from the fall.

Instantaneously, all sound is sucked out of his ears, muffled, not unlike in the Force bond.

Kylo spins around in surprise, expecting to see Rey, but he practically jumps out of his skin to see himself instead - infinite versions of himself - lined up behind him and mimicking his every move.

Kylo inhales sharply, his brow clearing. He knows this place. He knows it from hushed descriptions told from across a gentle fire, he knows it from a memory shared between the fleeting brush of fingertips, the first time he’d ever touched someone skin-to-skin in decades.

 _It didn’t go on forever, I knew it was leading somewhere._ _At the end of it, it would show me what I came to see._

He turns back around, to face the misty, frosted looking mirror. But Kylo has no kriffing idea what he even wants to see. He has no idea what this mirror is supposed to show him. It could very well be a normal mirror, just like it was for Rey, reflecting an image of himself so he can decipher his own conflicts.

But the Force swirls around him in a distinctly knowing way, like it’s taunting him with an answer he never knew he needed.

_I was wrong. I’d never felt so alone._

Kylo squints through the mirror, his palm still splayed and pressed hard against its surface. He says nothing, thinks of nothing, yet a figure materialises from the murky grey of the mirror and strides towards him. They stop right in front of him and aligns their hand with his. They’re shorter than him. Slightly smaller hands.

Kylo’s heart races. The tic in his eye is going wild. His shaky breath fogs up his side of the mirror.

He realises who it is, seconds before the frost reveals her.

Rey smiles up at him from behind the mirror, a small, hopeful smile that can’t possibly be real. It seems to light up the entire cave.

 _“Ben,”_ she whispers, and this time she’s the one to tell him, _“You’re not alone.”_

A subconscious that had been kept hidden in the tightly locked box of his mind is finally pulled to the forefront, in the most tender way possible.

He was a fool to have thought that he’d love her any more if she’d turned to the Dark Side.

He was a fool to ever have thought that was who she is.

The girl he’d heard so much about. The girl from the forest. The girl who had never held a lightsaber, the girl who defeated him. The girl who had given him the strength to kill Snoke. The girl he held in his bed whenever their solar cycles were synced. The girl who cheats whenever they played sabacc. The girl he loved sparring with almost every day. The girl who had yelled at him, cried for him, fought with him, laughed with him. The lonely scavenger, the last Jedi. His bondmate, his equal _,_ who revels in the Light Side.

_His answer._

“Neither are you,” he chokes out.

Rey beams up at him again, and for a moment she looks as if she’s about to say something else, but a third voice, slightly distorted and distant, resonates from somewhere over her shoulder, _“Daddy, where are you?”_

His breath catches in his throat. The image of Rey turns towards the source of the voice and vanishes from the mirror. In her place, is another figure, impossibly smaller. He drops to his knees to face it, but he can’t tell if it’s the mirror or his own culminating tears that’s frosting this person - this child - from full view.

 _“Come home, Daddy,”_ The figure moves closer, pressing both hands to the mirror. _“Mommy needs you.”_

This lack of vision should make him feel trapped or panicked. But it doesn’t. Instead it fills him with a stout resolution, an oath he’d die to keep, a promise to himself that he’ll spend the rest of his life making sure whatever entails will lead him to _this._ Suddenly, there is nothing he wants more in the galaxy.

Kylo places both his hands on the mirror, matching up with and very much dwarfing the ones behind it, in a painfully intimate way. His lip trembles, as he steadies his voice enough to speak.

“I know,” he tells the figure softly. “I need her too.”

His hands slip from the mirror, languid and in time with the petite figure on the other end. Like a shadow, a duplicate, a son.

And then he’s left to his own devices once more, the mirror reflecting him and only him, kneeling on the ground and still dripping wet from his clothes. Alone.

Except he’s not.

Not really.

For the very first time in his life, he knows exactly who he’s meant to be.

* * *

Ben eventually manages to climb out of the cavern, with the help of the Force. He’s never felt it burn so strongly in him before, and a part of him wants to blame it on the overall Force signature of the island. But he can’t ignore the fact that the voices of Vader, of Snoke, of Palpatine in his mind - they’re dulled down to mere whispers, weak as though they were never really there. He can’t ignore how _peaceful_ he feels, like a leaf in the stream of creation, like the Force is taking him where he needs to be. So instead, he trusts it.

He knows what he has to do. And this time, he will find the strength to do it, even if it kills him.

 _Rey._ He sets his mind to her, as a priority. Find her, and figure everything else out later. Because no matter what happens, now he knows for sure and certain that their futures are intertwined.

First things first, he needs to get out of here, and he recalls Luke Skywalker must have arrived on this isolated hunk of rocks in _something._ He only hopes it isn’t destroyed.

“About that…” says a voice from behind him.

Ben stiffens, absolutely refusing to turn around.

It’s a voice he’d heard in his nightmares, a voice that had promised to _see him around_ , to haunt him for the rest of his life.

There goes his peace.

There’s a sigh. A blue glow at the left corner of his vision.

“I can help you, Ben,” His uncle’s tired voice comes floating towards him once again. “But you need to let me.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Ben says coldly. “I think we both know how that turned out.”

Another sigh. “I’m—”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Ben whips around to snarl at Luke Skywalker’s defeated, translucent face, pointing an accusing finger. “You think that’s gonna undo what you did? A simple “sorry” won’t erase all the bantha shit in your life. I learned that the hard way.”

“But you learned,” Luke says. “You figured that out for yourself.”

“What’s your point?” Ben snaps. “And if you say you’re proud of me, I’ll kill you. Again.”

“I’m…” Luke hesitates. “I’m still trying to figure it out myself.”

Ben crosses his arms, in a surly attempt to mask his surprise. That was the last thing he’d expected Luke to say. Maybe _I’m sure you would,_ or _I’m never going to be proud of you,_ but definitely not _that_.

Before Ben can reply, Luke follows right along with his train of thought and takes the words out of his mouth. “I know, I know. Luke Skywalker, still looking to the horizon for answers, even after death.”

Just like that, Ben slams his defenses shut, and he’s annoyed to see that Luke does not flinch. He’s unaffected. As kriffing usual.

“Luke Skywalker, still invading his nephew’s mind without consent, even after death,” Ben glares at him. “You’re right. You haven’t changed.”

“I’m one with the Force, Ben,” Luke points out. “Which means I’m also a part of your thoughts.”

“One with the Force or not, you’ve always been part of my thoughts,” Ben says, and his voice threatens to break with such a heavy truth weighing down on it. “You’ve been haunting me long before you died.”

Now his uncle has the decency to look guilty.

“I can’t fix what happened between us, Ben.” Luke takes a step forward and Ben instinctively takes a step back, his hand flying up to the belt and saber that isn’t there. Luke only continues, if not more desperately, “But you make me want to try. And keep trying. Until I earn your forgiveness, however long that’ll take.”

“What if it never happens?” Ben asks warily. “If I never forgive you?”

Luke only shrugs, and answers like it’s the easiest thing in the world, “Then at least I would’ve tried. And you were worth it.”

His brain short-circuits. No one’s ever told him he’s worth anything before. He tries to come up with another defensive remark to bite back with, but all he can muster is, “Oh.”

“Follow me,” Luke says, and starts heading towards the sprinkle of huts at the cliffside. “There’s something you should see.”

His uncle leads him up a grassy hill and towards the village, where a bunch of the temple’s caretakers are milling around and tittering to themselves at the presence of a newcomer.

As soon as they get there, Ben stops abruptly, distracted by a hut that had been very evidently blasted to pieces by what only could have been the Force. At the centre of the ruins sit two small stools and a bunch of broken firewood between them.

 _This is where it happened,_ Ben thinks, crouching down to smooth a finger over a brick in the ruins. _This is where we connected._

At the touch, he sees his own memory, pictured loud and clear, the warm orange glow lighting up Rey’s tearful, hopeful features, the sensation of their fingertips and futures overlapping, the way his hand chased hers even when the hut exploded. He sees himself and Rey, their heads jerking around to face him, when he realises this particular memory isn’t his.

When he stands up, he can feel his uncle’s eyes boring into the back of his head.

“I was afraid to lose her like I lost you,” Luke replies to the unspoken question hanging between them, once again plucking it from the front of his mind.

Ben huffs a bitter laugh and turns to look at him. “And I was afraid that you were going to hurt her like you hurt me.”

Luke closes his eyes, as if in mourning, in meditation, and continues on towards the edge of the village. Still brimming with resentment, Ben follows.

They stop at the very last hut, at the very edge of the cliff, right next to the staircase leading to the temple. For a second Luke’s glowing, ghostly figure vanishes through the closed durasteel door, so Ben pushes it open himself.

He’s met with all kinds of strange Jedi artifacts, some of which he recognises such as the Jedi star compass, and a calligraphy set that very much resembles one that he’d owned back at the Academy. Even now, the sight of it lights an unadorned eagerness inside him. Luke reappears next to him as he approaches the stone desk to inspect the box of pens.

“Were these mine?” Ben asks, unable to stop himself as he flips open the chest of calligraphy pens and old scripts.

“I remembered how much you loved writing and I figured you’d still want them, if you ever came back,” Luke admits quietly, but the look on his face seems pleased. “And here you are.”

A part of Ben twinges in gratitude, but then he remembers the last time he’d ever seen his precious set of pens was when his lightsaber knocked them over in its haste to protect him from a deadly green blade. Belonging to the ghost standing next to him. He puts a little more distance between them and clears his throat.

“So,” he says testily. “You stole them?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” A hint of the eccentric farm boy shines through beneath the guilt-ridden depths as Luke rolls his eyes. “I had no idea you would rather have your beautiful scripts perish in the fire. Anyways, that’s not the only thing I brought you here to see.”

His blue glow drifts towards the opposite stone wall and gestures to a specific brick. “In here.”

Ben places both hands on the stone brick and pulls it out of its place. Inside is a small object wrapped in a piece of cloth and string. Ben unravels it and lets the object fall into his hand. A lump rises in his throat as the cold weight of Han Solo’s lucky dice tingles in his palm.

“I’ve kept this since Rey first arrived here,” Luke says, but Ben turns away from him so he won’t see his face and the tips of his ears very evidently flushing red.

The last time he’d seen this particular sacred artifact was also the last time he’d seen his uncle. On his knees before the person he loved most in the world, the last physical memory he thought he had of his father vanishing in his gloved hands.

He grips it hard now, willing it never to disappear again.

“This on the other hand, I stole off your father’s ship,” Luke continues, although his words hide more of his ironic humour. “I was worried it would stay buried here forever. It belongs to you now.”

“I don’t understand,” Ben shakes his head. “Why are you giving me all this?”

Luke pauses, and every minute he stalls seems to age him a year.

“I didn’t deserve to be your master,” he says at last. “The least I could have done was to be a good uncle. That was my first mistake. On all of our parts. Me, Han, Leia. All you ever wanted was a family and we gave you… a legacy. And for that I’m…”

 _I’m sorry? I’m disappointed? I’m a terrible uncle?_ Ben’s mind races.

“I want to help you,” Luke finishes instead. “A thousand generations live in you now. It’s a burden you bear as a Skywalker, but you don’t have to bear it alone. I hope you know that.”

Ben sinks down to the edge of Luke’s old bunk, contemplating. He’s been bearing that burden alone for as long as he can remember, but he’d never really thought much about how it affected his family around him. His mother was politically dethroned because of it. She’d lost a bulk of her reputation, and in turn so did his father and Luke. People probably didn’t trust Luke anymore to send their Force sensitive children to him, and while Ben personally thought it was for the best, Luke must have lost a ton of students. And eventually, because of that Skywalker hubris, Ben was one of them.

He thinks about how, when he became Kylo Ren, he’d turned to his grandfather for guidance, only to be met with what he now knows was Palpatine manipulating him the entire time. Which also meant that his grandfather never really acknowledged his calls. He wonders if Palpatine himself had cut him off from connecting with his real grandfather, manifesting as Anakin Skywalker instead of Vader, so as to keep him in the darkness. He’s surprised to find out that he still longs for that connection. Not out of obligation, but out of genuine curiosity, to discover who he was behind the mask. To discover how similar they’ve actually been, all this time.

After all, he cannot deny the truth - _this is his family._

He supposes, after all the guilt and sacrifice that both bound and ripped his family apart, it’s the least he could do to try and make amends. Not just for himself, but for every Skywalker who’s ever suffered because of this family curse. A bloodline so highly esteemed that people like Rey was perceived to be _nothing_ just because she wasn’t part of a lineage like that.

So he tells his uncle the truth. Simple and pure. “I know.”

Luke sits down next to him so that they’re on the same level. His eyes are glittering with all his unsaid pride. “Then you know what you have to do.”

“I do,” Ben shoots a questioning side-eye at Luke. “But I’m gonna need a ship.”

“I’m afraid I used the entire engine of my X-Wing as a peace offering to the Caretakers when I first arrived,” Luke confesses and Ben’s spirits fall right through the stone floor. “But the communications system should still be intact.”

He scoffs. “Who am I supposed to call?”

“Someone you trust,” Luke says, as if he, the ex-Supreme Leader of the First Order, trusts people as easily as Wookiees trust their sense of smell.

But before he can protest, his uncle’s figure fades into thin air. His presence has transferred itself to another part of the island, and Ben stomps out of the hut to relocate it.

* * *

He finds his uncle again, at the edge of a cliff, and approaches with the wind blowing fervently through his hair.

Luke has his arm outstretched, eyes closed, and then there’s a gush of water from down below. Before Ben can turn to look, an entire X-Wing Fighter, covered from nose, to wings, to landers in seaweed, with water spouting from its hollow thrusters, rises from the depths of the ocean to drift right over their heads. He watches in silent awe as Luke sweeps his arm to the side, landing the ship in a clearing nearby. Out of the corner of his eye, Ben can see Luke’s smug, mischievous smile, an expression holding something akin to an unknown nostalgia.

He knows better than to ask.

“You’ve been waiting a long time to show that off, haven’t you?” he retorts instead.

Luke does not even look the least bit called out. His bearded smile only widens. “You have no idea.”

It is a strange thing, what an uncomplicated exchange of words can do to a complicated relationship. Because somehow, Ben Solo finds his grudge against one Luke Skywalker softening against the pressure of everything else on his mind, just the _tiniest_ bit.

This isn’t forgiveness. It’s far from it. But it’s something.

And right now, Ben thinks, maybe that’s all it needs to be.

* * *

Ajan Kloss is denser than Hux had expected. Way more trees, way more grass. Probably way more insects, stars forbid.

As the Millennium Falcon makes its descent on the base, Hux starts imagining how disgustingly moss-infected the place must be, when Dameron emerges from the cockpit and approaches him with a pair of stun cuffs.

Hux regards him calmly as he unlocks the cuffs and bites his lip. It’s not that he’s surprised by this development in any way, but after their little talk and touch in the vents, he’s a bit disappointed, a bit concerned all at once. While a part of him is slapping himself for getting so physically and emotionally vulnerable with a _Commander of the Resistance,_ he also reminds himself that Dameron is not the enemy, and that it’s not treason to worry about whether his actions have pushed Dameron away, it’s completely normal to constantly think about the sway of his hips when he walks, how soft his lips had looked—

Even when he’s standing two feet away, holding out a pair of stun cuffs.

“So,” says Dameron nervously.

“So,” Hux replies coolly.

“It’s—” Dameron’s voice cracks slightly, and he clears his throat. “It’s Resistance protocol to put these on our, uh—”

“Prisoners,” Hux finishes for him.

“No,” To his mild amusement, Dameron bristles. “You’re not a prisoner.”

“Resistance seems to think otherwise,” Hux sighs and holds out his wrists. “I’m a war criminal, Dameron. I don’t expect them to understand my motives.”

“We’ve been through this, Hugs,” Dameron says insistently, even drawing the cuffs back and away from him. “You risked your life to help us. It’s not fair that they—”

“I don’t think either of us have a say in this,” Hux tells him with an air of what he hopes is bored finality. “And mind the blade.”

Ignoring him, Dameron snaps the cuffs around his wrists, just in front of where his monomolecular blade is hiding in his sleeve.

“You keep the knife,” Dameron says in a low voice. “In case any of the new recruits try to rough you up.”

Hux squints at him, the corner of his lips jerking ever so slightly upwards. “Poe Dameron, are you giving me permission to kill your own recruits?”

 _“_ It’s _self-defense,”_ Dameron clarifies hastily. “If you kill anyone here they’re going to opt to behead you.”

“Better than death by Force choke,” Hux reminds him, and Dameron blanches. “Besides, the intel I have can guarantee quite a bit of my safety. Don’t worry about me.”

The reassurance is out of his mouth before he can even stop himself. He’s about to sloppily patch it up with a haughty remark that would probably make no contextual sense, but Dameron takes both his hands in his, just like he did during their escapade on the _Steadfast._ Hux feels his entire body freeze up, and suddenly the only parts of his body that contain any semblance of nerves are his fingers.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” Dameron says softly, running his thumb across the back of Hux’s hand. “I worry about you all the time.”

Just as Dameron drops Hux’s hands back in his lap, the Falcon drops onto the landing bay of the Resistance base, and Hux’s heart drops right through his boots.

* * *

Leia had always known, the one similarity she had in common with Rey was the tendency to carry the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders. Sometimes even unknowingly, instinctually, an inerasable trait that flowed through the blood of any princess. But now she’s also a general, commanding an army against the tormentor of her family for generations. She’s older, wiser, and she knows if she wants her plan to work, her shoulders cannot be the only one the galaxy relies on.

She stands by the docking bay, flanked by Lando and Maz, watching the Falcon make its descent on the planet once more.

She had been right, earlier - Rey’s presence was nowhere to be felt, only a great sense of foreboding from the remainder of her friends inside the ship. Leia is worried about her too, worried that she might feel displaced or insecure, on the brink of such a big battle, worried that she’d found something on her journey that changed the way she sees herself. Leia herself had certainly felt the same way during the war against the Empire, especially when she found out Vader was her father. The burden to bear had increased tenfold, yet here she is, decades later. Playing another leader. Fighting another war against another corrupt empire.

Still, nothing has ever stopped Rey from doing what needs to be done. That’s another commonality they both share. Wherever she is, Rey can handle herself, Leia knows this better than anything. A fond, cheeky side of her thinks, _so should Ben._ Those two may very well be attached at the hip, but still she hopes that silly boy of hers doesn’t go running into trouble just for the girl he loves. His father used to do that a lot.

As soon as the Falcon’s ramp is lowered, Lando strides aboard without a moment’s hesitation, his inevitably dramatic entrance eliciting shouts of surprise from its occupants.

“You know you’re gonna have to let him fly it,” Maz grouses. “He’ll probably keep coming back if you don’t.”

“It is nice to have him back,” Leia admits. “But I intend to let him fly it anyway.”

“Force forbid, he won’t ever part with it again,” Maz says.

“He’ll have to, eventually,” Leia says pointedly, and then lowers her voice. “By creed, the Falcon belongs to Ben.”

“Ah,” Maz looks up at her. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

BB-8 rolls up beside Leia’s feet and chirps excitedly. At the sound, predictably, Poe comes skidding down the Falcon’s ramp towards his droid.

“BB-8, my buddy!” He drops to his knees and rubs BB-8’s round body like one would rub a pet Tooka cat. “Did you miss me? I missed you! The mission really wasn’t the same without you—”

“Commander,” Leia calls, unable to hide her affectionate grin. 

As if just made aware of her presence, Poe sheepishly gets to his feet. He clears his throat. “Sorry, General.”

Leia only places a warm, welcoming hand on his shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, Poe. How was the mission?”

“Uh,” Poe grimaces, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at the Falcon. “Accomplished, but it was… an interesting turn of events.”

“Interesting how?”

The second the words leave her mouth, of all living beings in the galaxy, General Armitage Hux of the First Order, murderer of Hosnian Prime, wrists bound with stun cuffs, comes stomping down the ramp towards Poe.

“We, uh,” says Poe. “We found our spy.”

“Prisoner,” mutters General Hux.

Leia narrows her eyes at him, hardening her face into something professional and unreadable.

“General Hux,” Maz addresses him in disbelief. Leia can practically feel her vibrating with self-restraint from knocking Hux’s lights out. “You’re our spy?”

“Yes,” says General Hux, squinting down at Maz but addressing Leia. “And for the record, I don’t care what you do to me, but I have information I think you’ll need.”

Then he looks back up and takes a step closer. BB-8 ignites their built-in shock prod with a string of beeped threats, and Maz visibly stiffens. Leia holds her chin high.

“From one general to another,” Hux says. “We want the same thing - for the Sith Fleet to be destroyed.”

 _And for your son to die along with them,_ Leia notes he doesn’t say, but he doesn’t have to. She can sense it in his intentions. She tries not to be offended, but she also carefully retains from gloating that her son is far from the First Order right now, probably never to return. Leia secretly anticipates the moment her son comes back to her and Hux is here to witness it, shock and horror chasing across the features of his thin, pale face.

That’s one reason to keep him alive.

On the other hand, he’d also very famously ordered the death of half an entire star system. No matter what his intentions are, he’s still a war criminal. When the time comes he’ll have to pay for it, but the Force tells her the time isn’t now. Armitage Hux is no longer their enemy; Palpatine is.

So Leia continues glaring at him, long and hard, until Hux looks satisfactorily unsettled. Then, “I won’t have you killed right now, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Good,” Poe’s relieved voice echoes from behind Hux. And to Leia’s absolute amazement, he squeezes Hux’s shoulder reassuringly. “I told you so.”

But Hux shrugs him off with panicked eyes, as if he’d been scalded, and she does not miss the way Poe looks very much _hurt_ by the action.

What the hell is going on?

“You will be detained, of course,” Leia adds quickly, masking her confusion with what she hopes is nonchalance. If what she thinks is happening is happening, she’ll have words with Poe later. She has a reluctant feeling it’ll be another reason to keep Hux alive.

“I understand,” Hux grits out. 

And then Poe takes him _gently_ by the elbow and guides him away towards the holding cells, and Hux goes without the hint of a struggle. BB-8 follows, still beeping with indignant protests and ramming into the back of Hux’s legs.

She watches them go, basking in her own astonishment, and barely registers Finn, Rose, Chewie and Threepio exiting the ship.

“Ohhhh,” Maz tuts, shooting one last look towards Hux and Poe as they vanish round a corner. “Boy’s got it bad.”

Leia does not know _which boy_ Maz is referring to, nor does she want to. Her thoughts are interrupted by warm furry arms wrapping around her, and she huffs a laugh into Chewie’s elbow. “I missed you too, Chewie.”

“Where’s my hug?” Maz glowers, and the Wookiee chuckles, bending down and picking her up so her small frame can settle on his shoulder.

“General,” Threepio greets her, but not without his usual bout of anxiety. “It is good to be back on base, but I’m afraid—”

“Rey’s gone,” Finn says, and for the first time Leia can tell he’s as jittery as the protocol droid usually is, if not even more. “She left us on Kef Bir.”

Rose hands Leia a familiar canvas bag - Rey’s bag. “She seemed to have something personal to figure out.”

Leia opens the bag and fishes out what she gathers to be the Sith Wayfinder. The second her fingers come into contact with the cold material, she can feel a trickle of darkness, the shadow of an unknown past, the sinister way the Force works around it. She holds the triangular device up to the light to inspect it further. A blinking red dot in the corner of one of the panels clearly indicates where they are in the galaxy, and there are multiple tiny sockets and ridges for the insertion of plugs to a ship.

“We found it in the ruins of the Death Star,” Finn explains. “Rey was fighting Kylo Ren—”

Leia briefly catches Rose elbowing her companion in the ribs.

“I see.” She replaces the Wayfinder back in the bag and lets Threepio carry it off into the base with Chewie and Maz in tow. Then she turns back to them, her next question prying its way from her lips. “What happened?”

“She, uh—” Finn stops short at the sour expression Rose is giving him.

“We didn’t stay long enough to see exactly,” Rose continues for him, through gritted teeth.

“Well, we had Poe’s macrobinoculars,” Finn reminds her.

It earns him another nudge in the side.

“Not like we were spying on them or anything,” Rose mutters.

“Forgive me for being concerned about our friend’s safety!” Finn scoffs. “Besides, we had nothing to worry about, she completely—”

Rose frantically waves her hand in his face, cutting in, “Completely defended herself in a stable and controlled way! Everyone got out of the fight safe and unharmed. There. That’s what happened. End of story.”

Leia sighs. “She stabbed my son, didn’t she?”

There’s an astonished silence and she can practically feel Finn and Rose flushing with panic.

“Don’t worry. I felt it,” she reassures them, unable to keep a smile from her eyes. “They’ll both be alright.”

* * *

The first difference Rose notices about General Organa, and _really notices_ , is a spark of hope that seems to radiate from her, one that’s almost contagious, one that makes her carry herself in a completely different way. Whatever it is seems to de-age her about ten years.

It spurs Rose to ask, “Do you think she’ll ever come back? Rey, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” Leia says honestly. “But she’s waited so long for a family to find her, now it’s only fair we wait for her too.”

At that, Finn cringes and starts fidgeting with himself. Another clue that there’s something he knows about her that the rest of them don't.

Still, Rose braces herself instinctively for Finn to bite back with a protest, to go back out and look for her instead. _Heavy pining,_ she’d called it, but while he’d seemed to have gotten past that stage of attachment, she can’t blame him for worrying now. She’d be lying if she wasn’t worried for Rey herself. War is the very worst time to be alone nor does it leave any time to pine. (Rose quickly and decidedly does _not_ think of Jannah and her annoyingly beautiful hair, the way her cape flows when she’s riding across skycorn fields. No, she _will not._ ) Also the fact that Rey is head over heels with the kriffing Supreme Leader of the First Order, _and_ the fact that they’d just witnessed her gutting him - this does not simplify things in the slightest.

“No, you’re right,” Finn replies to Leia, slowly, almost cautiously. His arms are crossed and his eyebrows are furrowed but he seems decisive enough to be sure of what he’s saying. “Rey knows we’re here for her, no matter what. I know I’m scared for her, but I also know she’d want us to keep going.”

And then Rose sees it - just how hard he’s trying to tear himself away from the idea that his life is tethered to Rey’s, ever since he’d found her on Jakku, ever since Rose had found him trying to desert the Resistance just for her. How he’s realising that the war is so much more than just one Jedi’s safety and wellbeing, how he doesn’t need Rey or anyone else to define who he is.

Canto Bight might have gone down in Resistance history as their failed, frivolous mission, but at least it taught Finn a valuable lesson. Seeing him bring it all back and rein it all in just makes her _so, so proud._

“That’s the spirit,” Leia smiles at him too, as she takes both of them by the arm and they head back inside the confines of the base. “Maybe in another lifetime, you’d make a great co-general.”

Finn perks up. “To you?”

Leia shakes her head. “To Poe.”

“You’d be doing all the work,” Rose snorts. “He’ll be attached to the computer the whole time.”

“Or too busy jumping in an X-Wing and blowing something up,” Leia adds.

“On second thought,” Finn says weakly. “Don’t make me co-general, General.”

They reach the briefing area of the base, where multiple communication stations are set up and a large round holographic table is illuminated with the layouts of a battle plan.

“Alright,” Leia chuckles, and her gaze darts to _both_ Finn and Rose. “What about Commanders?”

“What?” they yelp in unison.

“You heard me,” Leia says, very seriously. “This plan… it’s not gonna work unless this Resistance has more people to look up to. Good people. Like you two.”

They exchange a bewildered look. Finn seems completely and utterly lock-jawed, so Rose takes a deep, steadying breath and speaks for herself first.

“I, uhm—” she stammers out. “Thank you, General, but I’m not a hero. I’m not—”

“Rose, I’m not looking for heroes,” Leia places a gentle hand on her shoulder, and those warm brown eyes seem to wrap her in a courage she never knew she had. “I’m looking for leaders.”

Compelled, Rose’s fingers drift upwards to touch her Haysian necklace, while her thoughts drift to her sister.

Paige had never been a leader. Much like herself, she’d been shy and modest, but even then she’d never lost sight of what was important. She’d never been one to hold a grudge or place a blame, to hold back on a sacrifice when it was for the greater good. Even until the Battle of D’Qar, when she’d left Rose with nothing but a good-natured farewell and memories strung around her neck in the form of half a pendant, her sacrifice had saved four hundred people.

Indeed, Paige Tico may have never been a leader, but that sacrifice meant something.

Rose grips the necklace tighter in her palm, so its edges dig into her flesh.

Maybe, if this is where her sister’s fate had led her, if everything she’d fought for had led to this, maybe some part of her does deserve this.

Rose feels a soothing pressure on her back, and she looks up to meet Finn’s encouraging gaze.

“Paige would be proud,” he whispers. “We can do this.” 

She offers him a teary, choked-up nod and turns back to Leia. “Thank you, General Organa.”

“The honour is mine,” Leia replies, not without a twinkle in her eye. “Commander Tico.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will be also 2 weeks from now because it's also gonna be like 8k words long but i promise you it will be worth it,,,, reylos you will be fed very very well :)))))
> 
> as always, come scream at me @shruggyben on tumblr or @cosmicowlcosplay on instagram


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have been working on this chapter for 3 whole ass weeks and my brain is fucking fried. its so hard to let another long chapter go bc its SO FAR from perfect, but hey, that's what this whole chapter is about; nothing and no one is perfect and thats okay
> 
> also im so tired and i deserve to write SHORTER CHAPTERS
> 
> so here are the highlights, hope you enjoy em:  
> \- wholesome!rey arc :D  
> \- mechanic!ben  
> \- breaking news: force bonded idiots have no idea how to interact when its so obvious that they love each other  
> \- BREAKING NEWS: THE FORCE IS A COCKBLOCK  
> \- UNCLES TO THE RESCUE
> 
> p.s. to all my readers who struggle with self hate just as i do, i wanna say: i see you, i love you, and this chapter is dedicated to beating the shit out of our low self esteem. here's also to eventually finding the love of our lives, the other half of our dyads 😉

Rey doesn’t fall asleep.

She lays there on the scratchy sheets of her parents’ bunk, her lovingly crafted birth certificate tucked close to her chest, pressed against her heart which beats a steady rhythm, but she doesn’t fall asleep.

She’s plagued with hazy recollections of her earliest moments of life, the elation of her doll being placed in her hands for the very first time, or the feeling of a sharp backhand across her face if she ever shed a tear or made a sound past sundown, and she doesn’t fall asleep.

She may never sleep again. She may go out into town and haunt the atmosphere, a hermit in the shell of the past.

Besides, she wouldn’t be the first one to do it. She almost doesn’t sense the incoming presence in the Force, manifesting in a pale blue glow at the very corner of her vision.

“What are you doing?” Her old master’s voice comes ringing out towards her, a disappointed query hanging between them in the still, sandy air of the broken shuttle.

“What you did,” replies Rey, hoisting herself half-heartedly on her elbows to face him.

Luke’s expression matches his tone as he says, “How many times do I have to establish I was wrong to do that?”

“Maybe you thought different,” Rey sits up sharply. “You put yourself in exile to wallow in your shame. I’m doing it because I can’t risk hurting anyone. Again.”

Luke only regards her with a cool blue gaze, and Rey quickly regrets her audacity.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, fixing her eyes to her boots. “You’re right, I did this because I—”

Luke clicks his tongue. “If you say you deserve this, I’m sending Leia to come get you.”

“No!” she cries. “No, please don’t.”

There’s an extended pause, in which Rey fumbles for another excuse but the words can’t seem to flow. Luke is the one to break it.

“They’re not afraid of you, Rey,” he tells her gently. “The only person who is - is you.”

It’s a fact she’s already aware of, yet can’t seem to get over.

“This darkness inside me… it’s worse than I ever thought,” she confesses. “I feel like it’s a part of me I can’t escape anymore.”

Luke’s response is short and easy. “You can’t.”

An instinctive frustration rises like a tide within her, but she clamps down on it before it can implode. Her voice holds a helpless bite to it, “Well, I can’t control it.”

Luke studies her carefully. “Do you want to?”

“Of course. More than anything.”

Luke bows his head, a slight twinge of regret knitting his eyebrows together. “This is a lesson I should have taught you much earlier. Perhaps it should have been the first.”

He steps towards the open doorway, instead of walking right through the wall like he probably could have. He beckons her to follow. “Come.”

Reluctantly, Rey follows him out of the shuttle, stuffing her doll and her birth certificate into the side of her belt. The rough Jakku winds rifle through her hair and the golden-orange suns drip slowly into the horizon, as she jogs a little to catch up with her old master. He’s thoroughly unaffected by the environment, his hair is as still as stone in the breeze and he doesn’t squint against the blazing sunlight while Rey has to shield her eyes with one palm. It’s like he’s taking this as an early morning stroll around the Ahch-To village, and it annoys Rey at the very least.

“Do you know what leads to the Dark Side?” he asks abruptly.

Rey recalls what she’d read from the Jedi texts. “Fear. Anger. Hate.”

Luke nods. “We’re humans, Rey. We can’t escape these emotions. We can only learn to control it, harness it, know where our boundaries are when we set them.”

“Okay,” Rey hesitates. “But how?”

“You have fear in you. Fear that you’ll hurt your friends, everyone you love. Anger, at yourself that you have to leave to protect them, that you can’t control your power. But hate?” Luke turns to her. “Hate is the most powerful of all.”

Rey frowns against the yolky sunlight, her mind whirring with confusion. “But I don’t hate anyone.”

Luke raises his eyebrows. And then it hits her, just before he can explain it. She closes her eyes and wraps her arms around her own torso in bitter realisation.

“People are so caught up in their hatred for other people that they underlook the hatred they have for _themselves_ ,” Luke’s voice is softer and kinder than she’d ever heard it, even when explaining such a critical thing. “Self-hatred breaks more hearts than any other form of hate in the galaxy. That’s what kept me in exile. That's why Ben always revelled in the Dark Side. It took loving someone else for him to start loving himself.”

At that, she sneaks another meek glance at him, a blush creeping up her face. (“You don’t know that,” she can’t bring herself to accuse him. “You don’t know if he _loves_ me.”)

But she feels the truth in his words. She’d seen Ben grow from someone so constantly full of anger and sorrow, into a hopeful soul who cares recklessly, endlessly for the people he loves. It’s a beautiful transition, and Rey wishes she had time to do the same, instead of having the truth thrust upon her on the very brink of a war.

Luke follows her thoughts and adds, “I’m sorry, too. You had a childhood that would have turned you into something far worse than the person you are now. But it didn’t, because deep down, you held on to all the good parts of it.”

 _Mother._ Rey brings her hand up to the crinkled sheet of paper tucked into her side. But as her fingers brush the rough material, she remembers the explosion once again, fuelled by the anger she’d harboured for her father, the pain she was fuelled with, every slap, every punch, ever cutting grip that had ever been imposed on her, the power pulsing from her little arm, her demented scream that seemed to blow the ship right out of the sky.

“The bad parts won in the end anyway,” she croaks out.

“The bad parts always worsen with age,” Luke explains. “That’s what drove my family into darkness for so many years. We cannot regress from this, Rey. We have to move on. Accept it. Learn from our weakness. Our folly. Our failure.”

Rey shakes her head. “It’s not easy.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“It’ll take time.”

“Yes, it will,” Luke looks somewhat pleased that she’s deciphered that for herself, like she’s an apprentice who’d taken a step into a larger world. “But you don’t have much of that right now. The people who care about you, who will support you beyond this war - they need you, Rey. Now more than ever.” He leans towards her, his voice lowered almost challengingly. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Rey looks to the horizon and lets out a long, thoughtful exhale. She knows what she has to do, but her insecurity remains, and now she knows exactly what Ben meant when he’d said he didn’t know if he had the strength to do it. Was this what it had been like for him, all those years? For Snoke - no, Palpatine - to be pulling his strings from the shadows? Rey can’t even imagine… 

She considers her parents again. Her father had been work-driven all his life, her mother had given everything up as soon as Rey was born.

Perhaps a ghostly remainder of her love was what saved Rey’s own compassion, all those years she’d trapped herself on Jakku.

Perhaps her father’s grit and ferocity was what kept her alive whenever the other scavengers tried to steal from her stash or whenever foreign traders so much as looked at her the wrong way.

Perhaps, despite her anger and sorrow for what the first five years of her life had been, a small part of her is grateful because it led her here, now, where she miraculously has no less than she previously had. Friends who love her, practically her new family. A sense of belonging she’d never gotten the chance to feel with her own biological one.

The unleashing of her powers, her darkness, unto her parents is indefinitely the greatest regret of her life. But now that she knows where that life had led her, the good that she’s still capable of… the pain of her past is numbed, ebbing _ever so slightly_ , as she runs through the names of everyone she loves who is still alive today.

Finn. Rose. Poe. Maz. Chewie. Leia.

Luke and Han, of whom her fond memories last for as long as she can remember, even if they’re not physically here, the honour of getting the chance to know them at all.

And _Ben._

Gods, she wants a chance to tell him in person. Even if he doesn't love her back, after everything they’ve been through.

She would ask for nothing more.

So she tells her old master the truth. Simple and pure. “I’ll try.”

Luke finally stops in his tracks (actually, he leaves no tracks in the sand), and properly turns to face her. There’s a signature glimmer in his eye that is no trick of the light, because Rey recalls a similar expression from Leia.

“Do or do not,” Luke professes, or more like _recites._ “There is no try.”

Rey squints at him. “Did you just make that up?”

Luke chuckles. “No, but it’s something I like to live by. You should too.” He turns away from her and scales - drifts, actually - up a short sand hill. “Right now you have somewhere else to be.”

“Exegol,” Rey sighs, clambering up behind him. “But the Wayfinder, I left it on Kef Bir—”

“I know,” Luke says calmly, although she can sense him internally rolling his eyes like he did during their first lesson on Ahch-To. “Why do you think I brought you here?”

He gestures towards the dunes in front of them. He’s led them to the Sinking Fields, to the very edge of it. Rey can vaguely make out the shifting sands in the distance, swallowing chunks of abandoned parts from scavengers who utilised this place as a literal junkyard.

At first she doesn’t get it, but then she remembers - the Whisperer. There must have been a Wayfinder inside it. The first one, that Kylo had probably retrieved from Force-knows-where.

She gives Luke one last wavering glance, he nods, and she slowly extends her hand out towards the Fields.

And oh, how horribly familiar the sensation is.

Before she can even start to feel for the ship beneath the sand, she’s bombarded with memories of her dragging a ship _downwards,_ towards her, until the engines spark and splutter and scream, her parents unknowing to their fate, her mother unknowing, as she strode into the cockpit and demanded to return, to find her daughter—

Rey rips herself back, mumbling incomprehensible mantras to herself to ground her body to the present, focusing on her heavy breath and clutching her arm to her chest.

Luke watches her, silently, solemnly. When she turns to him, her eyes are filled with terrified tears. “Can you promise me I won’t lose control again?”

“No,” Luke says honestly, and her heart sinks into the coarse sand beneath her feet. But Luke takes a step closer and catches her gaze, bearing into what seems like her very soul, and she’s never heard anything more sincere in her life, “But if you do, there will always be a way back. Trust the Force, Rey. Trust yourself.”

She takes another deep steadying breath. And another. And another.

Until she doesn’t feel Luke pull away and off to the side, doesn’t feel her own hand drift upwards of its own accord. She closes her eyes. Feels for the Whisperer beneath the whispering sands, feels for the dark presence of the Wayfinder.

She reaches out, and the darkness reaches back.

_A spare pipe acting as a toy ship, clutched enthusiastically in one hand, as Rey ran around her home as fast as her five-year-old legs could carry her, her shrill voice acting as sound effects over the buzzing of the comms system outside and the audible musings between her parents as they tried to repair it._

_She swerved around a chair and imagined the clipped, inconsistent tones of people on the comms radio as the sound of enemy ships, imagined her own innocent little starship destroying the fleet, blasting them into a million shiny pieces, turning them into debris made of stars and bringing peace to the galaxy_ —

_There was a deafening smash from outside, followed by a startled cry from Mother and a crude swear from Father._

_And of course he was the one who strode in first._

_“Is there anything in this home that you won’t break?” His voice was breathtakingly soft, yet Rey felt it - feels it - right down to her bones._

_She panicked, her homemade starship clattering from her hand to the floor as Father advanced on her._

Rey’s outstretched arm throbs and quakes, and the Sinking Fields follow suit, darkness crawling up her whole body and coursing through her blood.

“Resist it, Rey,” she hears Luke say. “It’s _your_ mind. You choose your own path.”

_And all of a sudden, it’s as if she’d been transported into her own memory, her present self watching it like a holoprojection in a theatre, watching her own father close in on her younger self._

_All of a sudden, she knows what Luke means._

_Without a second thought, she parts the curtain separating herself from her memories and steps between herself and her Father._

_“It’s not her fault!” she shouts, in a slightly scratchier, deeper voice that isn’t hers._

_Her father is also looking at her in a way that he’d never looked at her before - like a bloodthirsty predator that had been called off its own prey._

_Yet it feels so natural, despite how differently she holds herself, despite the fact that she’s dressed in a different scavenger’s garb, despite the fact that her hair is shorter and she feels a little older._

_She’s still part of this memory._

_She knows her lines._

_She feels little Rey wrap her arms around her waist. “I’m sorry, Mother!”_

_She crouches down to face her younger self, and brushes a lock of hair away from little Rey’s face. “Don’t worry, cyar’ika. I’m not mad.”_

_“Why not?” Father says indignantly. “We’ve been working on that comms system for a decade! And now she just gets to run around and blow it up like…”_

_Rey turns to him, snarling, “Like what? Finish that sentence, I dare you.”_

_“You know what I mean,” Father visibly swallows. “It’s not fair.”_

_“She’s five years old, for kriff’s sake,” Rey says, with the enlightening air of defending herself. “You know she can’t control it!”_

_“Well, maybe she should start learning!” Father bites back. Then he sighs, retreating and running a hand through his grizzled hair, but the tone that he uses is far from convincing, “I’m just… worried about this family.”_

_There’s a giveaway silence, where something eerie and unfamiliar blooms. Father turns away from her and something inside her snaps, like the borderline between a memory and a vision._

_“You’re not worried,” Rey realises. “You’re scared. Of her.”_

_Little Rey loosens her grip on her mother’s tunic and peeks out at her father, a newfound courage brewing in her eyes. When she opens her mouth, it's as if they’re speaking at the same time, but with one voice._

_“You’re scared of me.” Rey doesn’t have to look down to notice that she’s evolved back into her present form, her white sashes brushing against her ankles as she calls him out, “I know who you really are.”_

_When Father finally turns back around, he wears an icy smirk, his eyes narrowed and flaming blood orange. Little Rey vanishes, and so does the body of her mother that she’d just stepped out of._

**_“So you do.”_ ** _He speaks in the same besieging voice from the vault on the Death Star. For a moment it even resembles Snoke’s as he says, **“Look here, now.”**_

_The scene changes, as if he has her tied on the end of a string, dousing her in different parts of her worst childhood memories._

_She wants to throw up at this one._

_Her parents arguing with a fellow trader, a Teedo of great and thunderous temper, declining his demand for a chunk of their spare parts. Rey spots herself standing warily not far away, as Mother shouts a final string of curses at the Teedo and starts stomping off._

_Father eventually follows, hauling their day’s worth of parts in a large sack over his shoulder and towards Niima Outpost._

_Little Rey hurries along where her mother is muttering angrily under her breath, and she tenses at two loud clicks from behind them._

_She’s watched Father get into enough brawls to recognise the sound of a blaster being cocked._

_She watches her younger self whirl around, and her eyes follow her own gaze to see the Teedo aiming twin blasters at Mother and Father’s backs_ —

_“No!”_

_Little Rey shoves her hand out at the Teedo, he goes flying into a nearby wreck of a TIE Fighter, and his small body is impaled with a spike jutting out of the ruins._

**_“You’ve killed so many. Hurt so many.”_ **

_All sense of time and memory slows and slows and stops around her, and suddenly she finds herself in little Rey’s place, her hand outstretched, the Force humming around her. And just like it did on Kef Bir, the darkness materialises - into the body of the Teedo. It glitches, and for a split second she sees her dual-sabered dark twin, mouth bloody and teeth bared in a spiteful grin, she sees her own father, with his mask of malice and his drunken sneer, she sees Emperor Palpatine, his face contorting in a wrinkled smile as it cajoles, **“What would your family think?”**_

_“Rey…” She hears a soft, faraway echo of her name in the wind. She turns around, and her heart leaps to find Mother watching her in genuine horror, her hand clasped over her mouth, eyes wide._

**_“What about your friends?”_ **

_Her mother vanishes, and in her place is Finn, Poe and Rose. They regard her with a muted sort of sadness, and suddenly her chest aches with the reality of just how much she misses them._

**_“If you are who you say you are, prove that you would do anything to protect them,”_ ** _the darkness hisses with Palpatine’s deformed lips, like a challenge, like one final dare. **“Strike me down.”**_

_In this strange dreamscape world, somehow, something in his words ring true, something in his words blanket her with a sense of peace and realisation she’s never had before._

_She faces him again and suddenly all she sees is herself, her white sashes and tunic stained with the blood of her own relished wound, a piteous, suffering mirror image, one that she’d embodied for the past day, one that, despite all that, was still the same Rey she’d always been. She still had the same light. The same hope. The same strength._

_She blinks, and it’s Palpatine again, but she lowers her arm._

_“I can’t,” she absolves. “I won’t.”_

_The darkness titters._

_“You’ve haunted me, the people I love, and the whole galaxy for so long,” she continues, her voice hushed in a compassionate whisper. “You have no love in you. Not even for yourself. And I feel sorry for you.”_

_She thinks of all the good things the galaxy had given her to love - Finn and his inside jokes, Poe and his happy accidents, Rose and her feisty smile, Chewie and his fuzzy hugs, BB-8 and his Artoo-induced foul language, Leia and her kind heart, her wise advice…_

_And Ben. Where does she even begin? Ben and his competitive spirit. Ben and the recognisable tic in his eye, the vulnerability it holds. Ben and his secret fascination for books and all things yet unknown. Ben and his warm embrace, his deep voice, his comforting hands that always, always find her even when they’re lightyears apart._

_Ben and the soul he shares with hers, so that in a way, to love him wholly, she has to love the side of their soul that belongs to her as well._

_“I am loved,” she realises once more, and as the Force sings with fulfilment, as the galaxy tips towards the edge of balance, the planets align so precisely that she can sense Ben, wherever he is, finding the same species of solace that is filling her now. Just like that, she feels like she can do absolutely anything._

_“And I have everything I need.”_

_She reaches forward, grabs Palpatine by the front of his swirling black robes, and pulls him off the spike._

Rey opens her eyes, and the sight before her steals all breath from her lungs. As the wind ripples so strongly around her that the three buns in her hair fly loose, as her renewed hope mingles with her power in the Force, as the sand beneath her feet parts to give way - the Whisperer rises.

It’s quite a thing to behold.

Sand pours out of the broken viewport, but it rises. Sand trickles down the sides of the split, cracked wings, but it rises. Rey feels the weight of her past, her mistakes, her darkness, stirring on inside her, but it rises.

Like there’s nowhere to go but up.

She looks towards Luke, catching his proud smile and curt nod amidst the fading light of the sunset. She places the mangled ship on the safe, unsinking sand, and lets out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

“And this is the lesson,” Luke says, moving to stand beside her. “The light is what keeps us in control. Sometimes lights go out, and that leaves us in our darkest moments. Everyone has them. Me, Leia, Ben most of all. But it doesn't make us monsters. It makes us human.”

Rey feels a tingle of acceptance shoot up her spine at his words, undeniable even as she says, “I can’t take back what I’ve done.”

“No,” Luke agrees, “But our darkest moments don't define us, Rey. What defines us is how we move on from it. How much we grow. How much we love.”

She allows herself a smirk. Just a tiny one. “I thought Jedi aren't allowed to love.”

“Pff,” Luke guffaws. “Well, you're not really a Jedi, are you?”

“I suppose not.”

True enough, the Jedi had been limited by their laws, their emotionless constraints. Even Luke had said so himself. But Rey is a living, breathing person of proof that love, attachment and passion were what could give anyone strength. She takes a moment to consider the ship she’d just hauled from the sand, and she imagines what a five-year-old, or a nineteen-year-old version of herself would say to her now.

Her smirk blossoms into a full-fledged, grateful one as she decides to humour him, “But I had a good master.”

“I failed Ben,” Luke acknowledges with a wistful sigh, and suddenly he’s nothing more than a man who’s figuring himself out as much as she is. “He wouldn't want me to fail you.”

Rey lays a hand on his own ghostly fingers, and isn’t half surprised when he doesn’t phase right through. She offers him one last consolation, as he begins to fade back into the Force, “You've never failed me.”

* * *

She walks back to her AT-AT, the Wayfinder safely within her hands, her mind busy devising a plan, what to do upon arrival on Exegol. She’s certain she still has to face the Emperor, but she stays true to her intent of not killing him. What does he even want with her? Will he try to turn her again? How is she supposed to defend herself without murdering him in the process?

What about the Resistance?

What about Ben?

Her mind churns with questions, but she goes with a gut feeling that she’ll figure it out on the fly. She’ll need a new ship too, one unrecognisable enough to skim through the Sith Fleet’s scanners without being noticed.

Rey makes it back to her homestead, still as dusty as ever, and starts throwing belongings into a tatty cloth bag she’d fished out from underneath her old bunk; the Wayfinder, her lightsaber, Kylo’s lightsaber, her birth certificate and her doll. She casts one last decisive look at all the contents, before securing the bag tightly shut with the leather armband that had covered her scars.

She slings it over her shoulder, rounding a corner to check if she’d missed anything and—

_Oh._

She didn’t realise the bond had opened.

But now it seems that’s all she’s capable of being aware of.

Ben Solo is lying flat on his back, his hair looking like a porg had made a nest in it, his cheeks smeared with grime, a hydrospanner in his mouth, sleeves of his undershirt rolled up to his elbows as he reaches up to twist something unseen in place.

A memory flashes before her, of him as a child, messing around beneath his father's old landspeeder until his little hands got all blackened, and her heart cinches with unbearable fondness.

There’s a telltale _clunk_ of a stubborn bolt refusing to sit in place, Ben flips on his stomach, muttering and fumbling for a manual.

Then he looks up, and their eyes meet.

Neither one of them move or speak for what must be ages, and then the hydrospanner drops from Ben’s hanging jaw.

* * *

“Rey!”

Ben scrambles to his feet and knocks his head against the belly of Luke’s X-Wing in his haste.

He feels himself blushing from his cheeks to the very tip of his ears. Why the actual hell would the bond connect them when he was in _that_ position, and she’s out there looking like—

Well… like a kriffing goddess.

Her hair had somehow fallen free from her buns, framing the sides of her face and cascading past her shoulders. The scars on her arm are liberated of their leather confines at last, a symbol of their connection etched on her skin forever. Wherever she is, the sun is bathing her in a warm fiery light, casting a halo down the length of her silken body, a beacon in the dull, misty tones of Ahch-To.

He nearly pinches the side of his thigh to make sure he isn’t dreaming. Oh, the Force must really hate him. (The fact that he’d seen a foreshadowing of _their son_ earlier does not help his current situation.)

There’s even something about the way she carries herself that’s different than before. She’s no longer the hopeless, terrified young woman who had stabbed him on Kef Bir, nor is she the innocent, obstinate girl who had one specific viewpoint of the Force, he can feel a newfound confidence radiating off of her and it’s practically contagious—

“You have dirt on your face,” she notes.

“Oh,” he blushes again, _damn him_ , and desperately rubs at his cheek with the cuff of his sleeve.

“It’s still there,” she says and closes in on him, licking the pad of her thumb. “Bend down.”

He obliges, and she swipes at a spot just underneath his eye. He’s certain she can feel the small muscle in his eyelid leaping beneath her touch while he quietly takes in her new appearance, scanning her body for any injuries or signs of a fight.

“Are you okay?” he asks hoarsely.

“Better than ever,” she smiles, and adds through the bond, _Now that you’re here._

It’s been so long since she’d last smiled, he realises. As she drags her thumb further down his cheek, her knuckles brush against the curve of his lips and he kisses each one, compulsively, like a silent greeting, a reminder of his affection.

“New hair,” he murmurs against her fingers.

“New shirt,” she quips back, drawing away to admire him.

“No, same shirt.” Ben gestures smugly at the gaping hole in his undershirt. “It was underneath.”

“All this time?”

“I have more layers than you think.” _Sweetheart,_ he almost says.

Now it’s Rey’s turn to blush, as if she’d heard it all the same. “I’m sure you do.”

They lapse into yet another silence, neither knowing how else to continue, until Ben supposes he could start by asking where she is. “Rey—”

“I’m sorry,” Rey blurts out. “For everything. I haven’t been fair to you.”

Ben blinks, taken aback. “Don’t say that.”

“It's true,” she insists, and she starts pacing. “I've been so caught up hating myself and punishing myself that I've hurt you in the process. I've hurt everyone I ever loved.”

The tension in her mind unravels as she speaks so his presence seeps through the cracks and all of a sudden, he can see it - all of it - her surroundings. He surveys what looks to be the inside of a tipped-over AT-AT vessel blanketed in sand, observing the withered flower stalks, the way his feet doesn’t disturb a single grain of sand as he walks, the way each carved mark in the wall feels under his fingertips as he traces them.

_You’re so lonely. So afraid to leave._

Now he feels a shifting tentativeness to her fear, the fear of having someone she loves leave her behind and never look back. It shatters him just as much as it emanates from her rambling voice, it shatters him that she thinks _he_ would ever do that to her.

“I’m sorry I pushed you away when you needed me. I’m sorry I only ever saw you as Ben Solo or Kylo Ren and it wasn't fair for me to assume you had to be one or the other. I was trapping you, just like Snoke did. I want—” Rey stops, lets out a short, nervous breath and looks up at him with eyes full of wanton hope. “I want to be more open for you.”

The last few words hit him like a ship at lightspeed, teetering dangerously on the verge of a confession, the weight of her compassion filling him like daylight through a viewport.

“Rey,” Ben chides, wanting nothing more than to fold her into his arms right then and there. “We were enemies, and yet you were more open to me than anyone I’d ever known.”

No, she shouldn’t be sorry. She shouldn’t. If anything, he should be the one on his knees, beseeching her forgiveness for every fight they had, every tear she shed, every time he ever broke her heart (and he’ll spend the rest of his life putting the pieces back together, if she lets him).

But a part of him also craves to claim her apology. She’s on the path to a fresh start as much as he is, so just like him, this is something she needs to make known as her first step.

* * *

“I’m sorry too,” Ben’s voice matches the way he’s looking at her, deep and all-encompassing. “I should never have pushed you.”

Rey delves her eyes back into his, in complete seriousness. “If you didn't push me, I would never have known the truth. And you would have had to live with it for the rest of your life. It was my burden to bear.”

Ben regards her, as if deciding whether or not to let it drop, but then he quirks an eyebrow. “Delivery was much to be desired, though.”

“It was,” she admits, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “We'll just have to work on your communication skills.”

For a moment Ben perks up at the mention of _we,_ his eyes lighting up, and it’s the most adorable thing Rey has ever seen. It seems to give him courage to continue, “I'm sorry for everything else. For…” He hesitates for a split second. “For my dad.”

 _My dad,_ she thinks in a wondrous daze. _He called Han his dad._

“I know,” she says. “I forgive you, but I don't think I'm the only person you should be apologising to. Especially for that.”

Ben chews at his lower lip (which starts to become wildly distracting) and says, almost shyly, “I'll get there.”

Her heart immediately swells with pride - no, pride is not the word she’s looking for, there is so much more inside her now - just the mere fact that he has kept faith in himself to make amends inspires her to no end.

That is, until her gaze darts back down to his lips and freezes there - as his tongue briefly flicks out to wet them.

Now _that_ inspires something else entirely. Something hungry and primal, something that had been lying dormant for far too long.

“What about us?” she asks, and isn’t half surprised when her voice emerges as a husky whisper.

Ben’s eyes positively _darken_ as he echoes, “What about us?”

“You said we were enemies.” She moves closer, and suddenly they’re in the _Supremacy’s_ turbolift again, hearts on their sleeves, lashes fluttering, doing what they should have done back then. “What are we now?”

In one swift move, Ben wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her flush against him, their noses bumping, their lips mere inches apart, and she knows _neither_ of them can bear this any longer.

He dips his head towards her, and she can feel his sonorous voice all the way down to the hollow of her throat, his Chandrilan lilt more prominent than ever before, “Who do you wanna be, Rey?”

A trail of shivers creep up the side of her neck (and she wants nothing more than for his lips to chase it). She cants herself upwards, eyes drifting shut, closing the distance between them at long kriffing last—

The bond snaps.

And just as abruptly as he had appeared, Ben Solo vanishes from her arms.

The Force chuckles at her, in what suspiciously resembles Leia’s general aura.

_Save the kissing for after the fight._

* * *

Ben lets out a frustrated groan, kicking a spare bolt off the edge of the cliff. He watches it land somewhere in the ocean.

Of all the times they’d shoved each other against walls and trees, of all the times they’d lain face to face in the same bed, of all these near-kiss experiences they’d had in the past year, this was by far the closest.

She’d _wanted_ to kiss him. She was _going_ to kiss him.

And this goddamn bond rips them apart like some kind of annoyingly overprotective mother who’d issue a 5-foot rule.

It’s outrageous. It’s unfair.

The Force is why he can’t have nice things.

 _Kriff this,_ he thinks, and sourly returns to his work.

The sooner he gets this comms system working the sooner he’ll get to see her for real, and hopefully he’ll never have to leave her side again. He certainly never wants to.

His conversation with Luke drifts back into his memory as he starts rewiring the system in the underside panel of the X-Wing.

_Who am I supposed to call?_

_Someone you trust._

His first thought is to contact his own Whisperer, but then it occurs to him that Rey might no longer be in possession of it, considering she’d decided to isolate herself on Jakku. Who knows which other scavenger might have stumbled upon it by now.

An alternative materialises in his mind’s eye, and his first instinct is to dismiss it, but something deep down tells him to _hold on._ There’s a real fat chance that whoever’s listening at the other end will agree to help him, let alone acknowledge him at all, but if the right receiver is there at the right time, if his trust is true… he could get himself a ride.

The fastest one in the galaxy.

Maybe it is the power of his thoughts, or maybe the Force itself physically endorsing that idea; he finally hears the fizzing spark of a hotwire and the subsequent static of the comms system crackling from the cockpit.

Ben scrambles upright and hoists himself into the pilot’s seat, tweaking the half-broken knobs, adjusting the frequency until the static dies down enough for him to record his transmission.

His finger pauses right before it can hit record, building up a tremor. Apprehension steals back in.

What if no one hears him? What if no one trusts him? What if he’s ignored, left to die alone on an island just like his uncle—

_No._

Ben slams his fist on the record button and presses his forehead to the control panel with a bout of nervous breath.

 _You’re not alone,_ Rey had once told him.

He’s made it this far. He has to believe he isn’t.

He squeezes his eyes shut. Calculates his words carefully. Then sits back up and speaks with all the resolve he has left.

**_“Hey, Uncle Chewie. I need your help.”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah so that was a lot im sorry
> 
> ive done a lot of self reflection on my writing (maybe a bit too much which is why i am brain dead after every chapter) and ive noticed that chapters like this have a lot of chunks that remind me of an essay rather than a narrative,,, on one hand it's interesting to see how my writing has changed throughout the story (in the beginning it was bright and quippy and fun, and it just grows darker, longer, more somber and contemplative) because it shows each of my depressive states whilst trying to get over tros. i mean we've gotten the novelization and the new digital release and i feel like its inevitable for those to impact my emotions when trying to write these scenes. i really wish they hadn't but its genuinely like wounds being reopened every mfing week. i hate it. i hate lucasfilm.
> 
> n e ways
> 
> i think and i HOPE this was the last of those long draggy contemplative chapters,, i really miss writing fun action and surprisngly, the resistance gang too. the next chapter will be 60% resistance and of course 50% of that will be gingerpilot so stay tuned for the gays!!
> 
> there will be so much angst god i rly hope i nail it
> 
> thanks for reading and thanks for all your wonderful comments once again!! stay strong yall


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh so much has happened within the past week!! this virus pandemic has gone absolutely insane (everyone stop fucking hoarding toilet paper wtf) and i think a lot of us have been suffering from quarantine depression/loneliness.
> 
> so now i present to you chapter 18 from quarantine (HEY THAT RHYMES) in which many many emotions explode all over the place. hopefully this entertains you while we all mope around at home hehe
> 
> highlights!!  
> \- rey goes shopping (trading) for a new ship  
> \- leia talks to her boy poe's edgy ginger bf  
> \- hux sings Burn (by Philippa Soo, Original Broadway Cast of Hamilton) during his interrogation  
> \- ROSE STANS RISE  
> \- platonic "i love yous" for the win bc we need more of that shit in life  
> \- hux sings Burn (by Philippa Soo, Original Broadway Cast of Hamilton) in poe's face but it backfires  
> \- "I'll be there for you, Ben. Chewie said I had to."

It occurs to Rey just as she’s marching into Niima Outpost for the first time in months, that this is the first time she’s leaving Jakku without any intention to return.

She wonders, blithely, what would have happened if she’d done this earlier in her life, had she come to terms with herself and moved on.

All the more reason it feels so enlightening now. Especially the fact that she’s flying out of the frying pan and right into the fire. Into a multigenerational war.

She weaves carefully through the town, using the Force to float the ruined TIE Whisperer along behind her and setting it down outside the trading station. Her soul hardens itself like a spirit of laden armour, as she stomps towards Unkar Plutt and his thugs who stand guard not far away, all of them still here after a whole year of her absence.

At least this time, she isn’t the one who’s trapped.

“Plutt!” she calls, and for once her voice rings out without so much as a hint of fear or exhaustion. “I need a new ship!”

Unkar turns to look over the counter and starts at the sight of her. Then the sagging features of his face tighten into fury.

“You!” he growls, jabbing a thick pale finger at her. “You stole my ship!”

“You stole it first, I just happened to be the next thief,” Rey points out. “And I’ll steal another one if you won’t let me trade.”

“You’ve been gone almost a year now,” Unkar leers. “You could never give me something that was worth so much as five portions, and now you come back and you think you’re worth a whole ship? Go home, girl.”

“I am going home,” She raises her chin. “Like I said. I need a ship. Small, fast, without an identification code.”

“Let’s see it then,” Unkar challenges. He gestures towards the bag she has slung over her shoulder. “What do you have that you think is worth my time?”

Rey sets her bag down on the sand, and Unkar leans forwards, eager to see what goods she’ll pull out of it. Instead, she raises a hand and beckons it forwards.

The TIE Whisperer is yanked up behind her with the Force, its wings throwing aside all kinds of rusted metal tabletops and shelves surrounding Unkar’s trading counter, ripping the tent down the middle, its spires chasing Unkar’s screaming thugs out of range. Unkar shouts in alarm and braces an arm up in front of his face to shield himself from the jagged remains of the cockpit ramming into his station. Rey lowers her hand and the broken ship drops back onto the sand, just before it can collide with her back. She approaches Unkar again, the wings of Kylo’s ship cradling her from interference from the outside world. Protecting her.

A thought surfaces from the murky shallows of Unkar’s mind, and she plucks it easily from him.

_She remembers._

“Yes,” Rey hisses in return. “I remember everything. I remember _them_. I remember you being there to watch it happen.”

Unkar stiffens but remains silent.

“You knew.” She narrows her eyes. “You knew, and you were afraid of me. That’s why you kept treating me like bantha _shit!”_

All the remaining glass in the Whisperer shatters in her fury and Unkar recoils, his meaty, cowardly arms flying up to shield himself again.

The darker side of her cackles at how he’s cowering before her after all these years. It’s what he deserves.

But the light, always the stronger, reigns her in and taps at her to stand down. For all his talk about worth, the Crolute himself isn’t worth any blood on her hands.

She takes a breath. Takes two. Then three. The darkness subsides as naturally as the sea from a shore.

“What can I trade for what’s left of this ship?” she grouses, nodding towards the Whisperer.

Unkar blinks stupidly a couple of times. “The- the whole ship?”

“Yes.”

“I- uh,” Unkar stammers, and then hesitantly exits through the back door of his counter. “Follow me.”

He leads her towards a small shipyard at the back of the trading post, where there are multiple transports and sand-covered speeders, flimsy shreds of cloth draped over several of the dusty older ships. All of which are anchored down to the ground with cables and wires. And she suspects it’s an additional precaution after her legendary swindling of the Millennium Falcon.

“From what you’ve brought me,” Unkar scritches the back of his head. “It’s worth… half of all these.”

“Lucky for you, I just need one.” Rey steps forward, into the layout of ships, skipping right past the larger quadjumpers and the groundspeeders.

She guides herself around the smaller starships, her ever-present scavenger instinct identifying the ones missing an engine or a piece of a hyperdrive, and then quickly eliminating them.

She stops suddenly, in the middle of inspecting a light freighter, her attention caught on the ship behind it.

At first she thinks it’s an X-Wing craft, but as she rounds the corner, she finds the ship has a considerable lack of wings. The more she stares at it, the more it’s starting to resemble a rusted old pipe.

Strangely, she recalls herself catching half-interested glimpses of it whenever she passed by the shipyard, on her way to exchange her parts for portions back when she still lived here. But as a scavenger with priorities of survival, she’d never allowed her curiosity to pique when it came to uncovering old ships.

At least, until now. She’s not the same scavenger anymore. 

Rey tears off the sheet of canvas covering the transparisteel of the cockpit and peers inside. It’s meant for a single pilot, with ample room for her bag and with functional hyperspace controls on the dashboard. The inside is cluttered with fallen panels and wires and it’s dusty as anything - very evidently second hand - but from its streamlined build, quadruple thrusters and what feels to be a beskar exterior, this is definitely a ship that can maneuver itself or take a hit.

It’s funny, how after all her years of watching ships come and go, tearing them apart and putting them back together, learning each and every one of their shapes and sizes, she does not recognise the model of this one.

Perhaps that’s why she’s so drawn to it.

Perhaps that’s why she chooses it, freeing it, snipping its tethers from the sand, finally leaving Unkar Plutt to his devices.

Perhaps it’s been here long enough, just as she has.

She clambers into the ship, seating herself in the rickety pilot’s chair and sliding her hands onto the controls. The little screen on the ship’s dashboard blinks on as the thrusters fire up. Rey leans in, picks the sand out of the edges and reads the flickering words.

**Initiating takeoff sequence...**

**Input new identification code for clearance:**

**_ _ - _**

An impossibly short name for such a ship.

Rey is on the verge of keysmashing random numbers to save time, but something inside her halts and forces her to think.

So she thinks. And thinks.

And then she punches in the keys.

**N** **O – 1**

A minute later, she’s smiling to herself, and she can’t bring herself to stop, as she steers No-One out of the Jakku atmosphere for the first and final time. As she connects the Wayfinder and guides No-One into the threshold of war.

* * *

Hux paces, fervently, around and around the little room he’s being kept in. It isn’t an uncommon thing for him to pace, he reminds himself. Except for once he’s unsure if he’s stalking as the predator or agitating like prey.

They’d given him a standard-issue shirt to change into. Cream coloured like what Dameron had been wearing the whole mission, ghastly in his fashion books, but comfortable unlike a prisoner’s.

The room is a simple one, albeit the plants and moss growing disgustingly from the ceiling and the table at the centre of the room, tucked with two chairs on either end.

It’s everything he expected from a Resistance base. He knows the set up. He knows the protocol.

He’s due for an interrogation.

Every now and then he hears voices from beyond the locked door. Some come and go. Most draw nearer and nearer before being abruptly pulled away by the sound of a second, more defensive voice.

(Hux tries very hard not to think about how much that voice sounds like Dameron’s.)

Stars, he just wants this to be over with.

Finally, after what seems like hours, the liberating beep of the lock ricochets throughout the room and the blast door slides open.

General Organa steps through.

Before he can peer through to the outside world, the door closes behind her, and they proceed to glare at each other for a solid moment. General to General.

Organa is the one to break the silence. “I was surprised you were willing to give us information so freely.”

She circles around to the table, and Hux instinctively backs away to put it between them.

“I don’t do anything for free,” he all but spits. “I need a guarantee that you can take out that Sith army, or you’re nothing to me.”

“We would be honoured to do that,” Organa says, weirdly genuine. “Like you said, we want the same thing.”

She drags out a chair and sits in it, across the table from where Hux is rigidly standing. He crosses his arms. “Then I’m surprised you’re willing to trust me so… _freely.”_

“You told us that the fleet can destroy entire planets. As concerning as that is, it matches up with everything you’ve been telling us for months. So in that regard, there’s no reason not to believe you.” It’s not Organa’s words, but instead her wan smile that shakes him even more.

“I told Dameron that,” Hux tells her, as easily and compulsively as breathing. “Not specifically the entire Resistance.”

“My commander seems to have a soft spot for you,” she says, and Hux feels himself growing beet red. “You killed many people, on Hosnian Prime. Good people.” Organa visibly swallows, hesitates, then steels herself to continue, “But Poe sees the good in you. I figured he’s learned so much from me, maybe it’s time I learned something from him. I’m giving you a chance.”

“Giving me a chance?” Hux sneers. “Save it, General. We both know you’re going to execute me at the end of this.”

“That’s not up to me. You’ll stand trial to the people whose families you’ve murdered.”

How predictably diplomatic of her. How wonderfully merciful. “Can we skip the pleasantries?”

Organa stops and glares at him again, for a good long moment. She leans forward across the table.

“A spy is one of the most dangerous professions in the world. You risked your life for the Resistance, and the fact that you’re here now means you’re willing to do it again.”

“You’re starting to sound a lot like your son.”

And there it is, the same knitting of eyebrows, the same narrowing of dark amber eyes, the same way Leia Organa and Ben Solo sets their jaw whenever someone vexes them in the slightest. “I know you want him dead. Poe told me how they treated you in the First Order. From personal experience, _General,_ revenge isn’t a reliable motive.”

“If all you’re here to do is lecture me about my agenda, or diminish my loathing for Kylo Ren, it won’t work,” Hux replies coolly. “We may both have been at the same level of power once, but don’t try to understand someone you’re not.”

Something in her demeanour immediately changes. Her face softens and she leans back in her chair. There’s an extended silence that borders on uncomfortable before she speaks again, her voice quiet and sympathetic, “I used to be something of a spy myself before Vader caught me. He destroyed my home planet in front of me.”

Hux freezes, and he knows Organa can tell she hit a nerve. His mind races. There’s no way. There’s no possible way she knows about—

“My parents were on it when it blew.”

Then he realises, with perfect, horrible clarity. There’s only one person in this whole galaxy who knows about his attachment to Arkanis. There’s only one person he’s ever told, and Hux should have known, or at least suspected, that Organa had him wrapped around her little finger, and now she’s using it to worm her way into his insecurities. Trying to see through him.

Hux can’t tell whether he’s angrier at the fact that it’s working, or the fact that Dameron is probably out there right now, spreading the gossip like a plague.

_Armitage Hux, the latest sob story of the First Order, tragically depressed over the destruction of his homeworld and his dearest mother along with it!_

He’s coldly pleased that he’d been allowed to keep his monomolecular blade. Perhaps Dameron will be its first victim. Out of perfectly justifiable self-defense. Against the assault on his trust.

But it takes all his might to prevent his voice from shaking. He can’t even bring himself to say Dameron’s name aloud anymore. “Exactly how much has he told you?”

“I think the question is, what _hasn’t_ he told me.” Clearly Organa is blind to the problem. “I understand how you’re feeling. I really do”

“It wasn’t for him to tell.” And for a moment, he feels like a petulant child, fists clenched at his sides, face flushed, voice lowered to a dismayed whisper (he feels like what Ren looks like 24/7). His stomach churns sickeningly with betrayal as he recalls each and every one of their conversations, their stupid inside jokes, the way they’d learned to recognise each other’s messaging styles, the way he’d opened himself up to admiring Dameron’s body when he wasn’t looking, the way he was so convinced at one point that _they_ could exist. Together (just like however the _hell_ Ren and the Jedi make it work between them, despite being on opposite sides of the war. At least their strange little relationship is mutual).

So Hux recalls all of it, every moment he’d spent with, and thinking about Dameron.

And then he discards it from his brain as best he can.

It’s over. He doesn’t have time for this. No matter how much it hurts.

He vaguely hears Organa reasoning with him, “He didn’t think _you_ were going to.”

“Exactly,” Hux says numbly. “Because it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, we don’t have to talk about it,” Organa says, and her tone is kind. “But it matters.”

“Is that what we’re going to do?” Hux scoffs. “Sit here and talk about our similarities all day when a war is about to begin?”

Organa raises her eyebrows for a moment, as if trying not to look taken aback, and then she says, “Not if you start us off by telling us how we can win.”

He regards her for a few seconds, and then decides to sit.

“You can’t win,” Hux tells her from across the table, as brutally honest as he can. “Not with this army.”

Organa nods. “I have a plan.”

“If that plan involves getting over a million people to fight with you—”

“Let’s say it does.”

“You’ll be running a suicide mission. Not just of this fleet, of the whole galaxy.”

Organa chews her lip, considering.

“Tell me about Exegol.”

“I’ve never been there.”

The General frowns, and Hux rolls his eyes.

“If I did, you wouldn’t have gone on a manhunt for a Wayfinder,” he says. “But I’ve seen what the ships can do. I know how they work.”

“How do they work?”

“General!” A short blonde woman bursts into the room, followed by Tico. Both of them look agitated and thoroughly terrified.

Hux and General Organa are on their feet at the same time.

“What is it, Kaydel?” Organa asks urgently.

“Pasaana,” the woman called Kaydel says. “It’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Destroyed. By the Sith Fleet,” Hux says grimly. He turns to Organa. “The war has begun.”

And she turns to him, and the look in her eye is now desperate. “Tell me how they work.”

It’s no longer a question, but Hux decides it is best if he complies.

“Xyton-class Star Destroyers.” He recites from memory of the meetings he’d had with various architects and engineers on the stagnant atmosphere of a flagship. “Each with a superlaser in its underbelly. Think a dreadnaught but twice the size and a hundred times the power. And then take that and multiply it by around ten thousand.”

“Oh, gods,” Tico groans.

“How do they launch?” Organa goes on.

“Satellite from the surface. Something about the gravity isn’t right on Exegol, so they use a signal to determine which way is up.”

“So we just take it down and the whole fleet is trapped?” Tico asks, as if a diligent student trying to comprehend a problem.

“They never learn from their mistakes, this Empire,” Organa mutters under her breath.

“Perhaps they did,” Hux bites back. “Because there’s a second signal from the lead ship, so you’ll need enough people to destroy both at the same time to stop them from rising.”

The General sighs. “I retract that statement.”

“Organa, this is impossible,” Hux emphasises again. “With the resources you have and the _utter_ lack of people, you’re nothing but flies to them. I won’t be the only one under a guillotine at the end of this.”

“Never tell me the odds,” Organa huffs, and then sweeps out of the room.

Stubborn as anything. Stubborn as her own son. Of course.

Hux rubs at his face in irritation as he hears her calling to the other two women in her wake. “Rose, Kaydel, call everyone in. I need a final debrief.”

By “everyone,” and judging by how she’d left the blast doors open for him, Hux assumes he’s included. He stalks tentatively out of the little room and trails along with the seams of Resistance fighters to the command centre of the base, pulling the collar of his coat up to hide himself. An extra precaution just in case someone untoward is looking for a fight.

The only person he’d be willing to fight right now is Dameron. Despite his relatively more muscular build and his undoubtedly professional combat training… 

_No._ What the hell is he thinking? Why the hell is he thinking about this?

Hux gives himself a shake. Yet when he looks to the left, Dameron himself is watching him from Organa’s side. She’s whispering something to him, but he doesn’t seem to be listening. His eyes, bright in the pale blue light of the holographic table at the centre of the room, are transfixed firmly on Hux.

And for the first time under Dameron’s long-eyelashed gaze, disgust rises in the form of bile in his throat.

And for the first time since their escape from the _Steadfast,_ with all the strength he can muster, Hux turns away.

* * *

Five hundred fighters. Thirty ships. One missing Jedi.

As soon as the news of Rey’s absence goes out, Leia watches everyone, and quite literally everyone, fly into a panic. With the exception of Finn, Poe, Rose, Kaydel, Chewie, Maz and Lando, the Resistance crowds haphazardly around the command centre, multiple people shouting at once, their attention to Leia’s plan long forgotten.

She gives herself a pat on the back for leaving that to the end to reveal.

“Rey’s the most powerful fighter we have!” someone yells from the back.

Cries of agreement.

“Where is she now?”

“Is she coming back?”

“Are we going to go find her?”

“We can’t fight this war without her,” Snap Wexley says from the front. “I mean, that fleet has Palpatine in the lead. Without our own Force user—”

“We don’t _own_ her, Snap,” Jessika Pava snarls. “She’s not a tool or a weapon to be used.”

“That is _not_ what I meant,” Snap hisses back.

“Sure seems like it is!”

There are other cries of outrage from various women all around.

“Leave Rey alone!”

“She has enough pressure on her as it is!”

“Why don’t you train to be a Jedi, Captain Wexley, if you’re so clever—”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Rose bangs her fist hard on the holographic table, and immediately the whole Resistance goes silent.

Nobody moves, as if time has stopped. Five hundred pairs of eyes blink at the small woman in shock.

Leia finds herself holding back the urge to chuckle.

Rose casts her a dazed glance, as if simultaneously asking for permission and asking whether that was too much.

Leia only shrugs. “Go on, Commander.”

When Rose faces the crowd again, she speaks with a new reverence that shakes Leia to her core. “Look at us. This is what _he_ wants. We’re already just a blip against their army and yet here we are, ripping each other further apart. I’m not big in all this Force stuff like Luke Skywalker or General Organa or even Rey, but I’m pretty sure this is what the Dark Side looks like.” She gestures around them, at Snap whose face had fallen in dismay, at Jessika who bites her lip and hangs her head. “The First Order, the Sith Fleet, whatever you wanna call them - that’s how they want us to lose. Are we just gonna stand around and give in?”

Something twists in Leia’s heart, an admiration for the girl that she’d never felt before. Besides the stark wisdom in her words, nothing is more impressive than to see non-Force Sensitives understand the Force just as well, if not better than some Force Sensitives do.

“I told a friend once, the only way we’ll win this war isn’t fighting what we hate, but saving what we love.” Rose looks towards Finn, and her co-commander, too, is gazing at her with so much pride in his eyes. “Rey may not be with us right now. But if we can’t fight with her, then I say we fight for her.”

A deep murmur spreads throughout the crowd, so Leia steps up beside her.

“Commander Tico is right. We’ll fight for her, and everyone else we’ve lost in this war. To bring them home.” She thinks of Paige Tico, beloved sister and determined fighter, who had believed in the Resistance to her very last breath. She thinks of Holdo, who had sacrificed her life in the most valiant, or as the kids say, _badass_ way possible. She thinks inevitably of Ben, about how much she misses him, how she longs to see the face of her son for the first time in two decades. How she’d do anything to see him come home.

“This galaxy is our home,” Finn pipes up. “And it’s not just ours. Millions of people in different star systems will suffer if they don’t protect it too. If Leia’s plan works, we won’t be alone. There are more of us out there who are willing to fight.”

“That’s what you said on Crait,” says Sharp, clearly unfazed. “What do we have now that'll convince the whole galaxy to risk their life against a crazy Emperor?”

There’s a short pause and a few nods in the crowd.

“Last time the galaxy wasn’t at stake the way it is right now,” Lando says, and Chewie rumbles in agreement. “This time we’ll show them something worth fighting for.”

“One last battle. One last war,” Leia continues, her voice downed with tenacity, into what is almost a whisper that echoes throughout the base. “I know things may look dark right now. But after every night comes the day. No matter what, the sun _will_ rise. Hope will rise.”

She pauses to look around at everyone’s faces. Gaging their expressions. Mostly tired, worried, but listening intently nonetheless.

She takes a breath.

“Will you believe in hope? Will you fight for it, one last time?”

The room is dead silent. People are exchanging looks all over the place, and for a second Leia fears some of them might walk right out.

And then Rose Tico, ever the optimist, is the first to shout, “Yeah!”

Her voice rings out across the command centre, and instantly the entire Resistance follows her lead, cheers of “Yeah!” and “Yes, General!” from each and every single Resistance fighter in the vicinity, resounding across the base.

This is what she’d been working towards her whole life. Unity despite the odds.

“Now, to your ships!” she calls to them, one last time. “And may the Force be with us.”

* * *

“Co-commanders!” Poe says gleefully, throwing his arms around Finn and Rose’s shoulders, ignoring the rest of the Resistance as they rush to their stations and as the departure alarm starts blaring. “I can’t believe it! I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks,” Rose blushes. “It’s exhilarating to say the least…”

“Working behind pipes to doing speeches in front of everyone,” Finn smirks.

“And you,” Poe nudges Finn in the side. “Former stormtrooper to Commander of the Resistance, leading ground forces for the final attack. Any words, sir?”

“I’m allergic to orbaks,” Finn says bleakly. “If the First Order doesn’t kill me, that probably will.”

Poe sniggers, and Rose pats him on the arm.

“You be careful though,” Finn stops them in their tracks and turns to face Poe. His face contorts with concern. “I think, out of the three of us, you’re the one at risk. Those ships sound insane, and you’re practically our entire defense.”

“I second that,” Rose says. “Take care of yourself. Don’t go pulling a Holdo Maneuver out of nowhere.”

“Unless absolutely necessary?” Poe asks suggestively.

Finn and Rose exchange a look that _clearly_ says otherwise.

“We don’t wanna see you gone, Poe.” Finn’s voice is so quiet Poe almost misses it.

His chest clenches - he’s been a pilot for as long as he can remember, it’s almost no big deal anymore. But for someone to actually take value in his life and the fact that he’s putting it on the line, again and again… it’s rare. But definitely a nice change of pace.

“Guys,” he reassures. “Don’t worry about me. I got this, I always do.”

They still seem unconvinced, and Poe rolls his eyes.

“I have BB-8,” he deadpans. “And they’re pretty much immortal so I think that makes them a good luck charm—”

“Just keep your head in the cockpit,” Rose chastises, ruffling his hair. “You’ve been so distracted lately.”

Poe opens his mouth to deny it, but then he catches a flash of auburn from over Finn’s shoulder and his attention zips straight towards it.

It’s Hux. Obviously. No one in the Resistance (or in the whole galaxy) could have hair as sheerly attractive. As far as Poe can see, half of him is obscured by the lander of a ship, and he seems to be loading crates somewhere. And he does not look happy, which makes Poe’s heart skip a beat. The cold shoulder Hux had given him earlier (and seeing him dressed in something other than First Order military regalia, not to mention something that looks suspiciously like one of his own shirts) before the debrief literally froze him down to his boots. He’d never seen Hux like this before; Now it’s almost as if he’s experiencing the man who had murdered Hosnian Prime and didn’t regret it.

“Hey.” He’s brought back to himself by Finn snapping his fingers in front of his face.

“Sorry,” he slurs. “Could you repeat that?”

Finn and Rose simply exchange a look. Again.

“Point proven,” says Rose with a testy jerk of her eyebrow.

“Oh, come on!” Poe whines. “Tell me that was a joke! You know how much this battle means to me, to all of us. You seriously don’t think I’d—”

“We know,” Finn huffs a laugh, planting his hand on Poe’s shoulder and giving him a little shake. “Just don’t be _that_ flyboy. Not tonight, alright?”

“Other nights are fine,” Rose agrees, and Poe grins.

He throws his arms back around his two friends and brings them in for a hug.

“I love you guys,” he tells them, emotions muffled into the material of Finn’s clothes.

“Love you too, Poe. Always,” Rose replies earnestly from somewhere near his elbow.

“I love you guys too,” Finn reverberates, and then he shifts from within their jumble of arms. “But Poe, if you start crying on my vest, I’m gonna kill you.”

“That’s valid,” Poe sniffs.

They pull apart, all smiles, until Finn says wistfully, “I wish Rey was here. Group hug doesn’t seem complete without her.”

“Me too,” Rose sighs. “I hope she knows we love her too.”

“We can hug again when she gets back,” Poe says.

“ _If_ she gets back,” Finn corrects.

“Don’t talk like that, Finn,” Rose scolds, and then the rest of her words are lost once again.

It seems all sound and surroundings have vanished from Poe’s awareness - because Hux is looking straight at him from the distance, his face unreadable. They share a moment, just watching each other, Poe’s lips parting to draw a sharp intake of breath and Hux’s lips draw together in a thin line, and before he knows it, Hux is stomping away. Out of view, into the trees, and towards the transport.

No.

No, no, no.

He can’t let him go like this.

Into a war, when they’re seemingly on bad terms, when Poe might probably never see him again—

He makes to excuse himself from the huddle he’d made with Finn and Rose when he realises, they’re already both looking at him with a twinning sympathy in their eyes.

“Go,” says Finn, with a small smile. “You’ve been staring at him for the past two minutes, just go.”

“You know you’re not gonna get the chance again,” Rose says, with a hint of annoyance. “Tell him you like him and just be done with it.”

“I don’t want to be done with it,” Poe realises aloud. _I never want to be done with it. With him._

“Oh, for kriff’s sake!” Finn and Rose chorus at the same time.

“I’m going! I’m going!” He scoots around them and speeds towards where Hux was making his grumpy exit. “I’ll see you guys on the other side of the war!”

* * *

He’s almost there. Almost there. The ramp of the transport is just a few feet away and he won’t have to see Dameron’s sorry face ever again.

From behind him, running footsteps. Huffing of breath. And then—

“Hey!”

Hux stiffens at the base of the ramp, willing his uncooperative feet to take another step, up and away from that warm, familiar voice.

Yet he refuses to turn around.

They stand there, unmoving, and all that can be heard is Dameron’s ragged panting, the rustle of the wind in the trees, the voices over the intercom system, guiding ship by ship into the air. He contemplates breaking the silence before Dameron runs his mouth off and says something stupid.

But Dameron beats him to it and breaks his own _stupid_ record.

“How are you doing?”

_How are you doing?_

The _nerve_ of this man. A lump rises in Hux’s throat, rendering him almost speechless.

_How are you doing, after I flirted with you for information?_

_How are you doing, after I told the General of the Resistance your greatest weakness?_

_How are you doing, after I let you save my life, bandage my wounds and become your_ next _greatest weakness, only for you to realise that none of what happened between us was real?_

“You heard your General’s orders,” Hux spits. “You should be launching by now. Doesn’t paint you as a very punctual leader, does it?”

Dameron flinches at his tone and Hux hates how he must strain himself not to do the same.

“Yeah, I’ll get to that,” Dameron says slowly, as if he were approaching a scared animal. “I just… wanted to check in on you first.”

“Why do you even care, Dameron? I’m a prisoner.”

“No, you’re not—”

And that’s it. Something inside him _breaks._ Before Hux knows what he’s doing, he whirls around and bellows with all the anger in his chest, “DON’T LIE TO ME!”

Seeing Dameron’s wounded expression for himself does things to him. The shattered pieces of his heart disintegrate, just when he thinks he cannot be broken more than he already is.

“What happened?” Dameron whispers. “What did she tell you?”

Hux takes a threatening step closer.

“More like, what did _you_ tell _them?”_

Dameron’s face warps with confusion, and then slow comprehension.

“You mean the stuff about Arkanis?” he says. “I didn’t make a promise to you to keep it in.”

Really asking to be gutted, this guy.

Hux laughs, almost hysterically. “Oh, so when I tell you things that are completely irrelevant to the war, things that I wouldn’t tell anyone else, _ever_ , just feel free to broadcast it to this entire Resistance, go tell Emperor kriffing Palpatine for all I care.”

“This humanises you.” Dameron shakes his head, and to Hux’s disbelief, he seems _angry_. Angry at _him_. Like any of this is his fault. “I told Leia because, I don’t know, maybe if she knew, it would be less likely to result in your execution? You didn’t think about that?”

“Maybe if she knew, she would be more likely to use it against me? You didn’t think about that?”

Dameron finally falls silent, and Hux is filled with wrathful satisfaction. “I thought not. Just when I’m trying to do the right thing—” He realises he sounds like a righteous prick, so he adds, “—for myself, turns out all I’m really meant for is to be used.”

The silence extends, and then Dameron squints at him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asks incredulously. “You think I _used_ you?”

“Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to… to…” Hux’s jaw tenses at the memory of Arkanis being reduced to stardust in front of him, at the self-concocted image of his mother watching her own impending demise, the bolt of Sith-harnessed energy blazing towards her. He squeezes his eyes shut just before his livid tears start to flow. He cannot - will not - let Dameron see him like this. “To talk a-about… about Arkanis? About the person I lost? Do you have any idea how terrifying it was to lie under Kylo Ren’s nose for _months?”_

Dameron’s expression softens, and so does his voice. “Of course.”

“Yeah, well,” Hux snorts. “Good to know everything you said to me through that computer were just douceurs on a screen.”

Dameron jerks, eyes widening as if he’d been slapped. His hands are clenching and unclenching at his sides. He looks as conflicted as ever and while Hux has no idea what the hell he would be conflicted about, he wonders if there’s a part of him that feels any semblance of remorse.

He hopes there is.

He damn well hopes there is.

“They’re not—” Dameron starts.

“Are you happy now? I hope you’re happy,” Hux interrupts, vicious and half-crazed, spurred on by the brink of war, by never having to see this _stupid, guiltless,_ hero of a man ever again, never having to think about his beautiful eyelashes, his beautiful hair, his beautiful arms and his beautiful lips, never having to wish for them to touch his own because it’s a reality he was foolish to think he’d ever have. He doesn’t even care that a single tear has escaped his eye and now drips solemnly down the length of his cheek. “You have everything you ever wanted, all the information I have to offer. Are you happy? I’m nothing but a meaningless, empty vessel of a person that they can just throw away—”

“I’m in love with you!” Dameron shouts.

The world stops spinning.

“Wh- what?”

“Ever since we first started talking, just, the way you made me feel. So, so brave.” Dameron punctuates each word by taking a step closer, his eyes not leaving Hux's for a second, and he doesn’t stop until they’re inches apart. And then it’s as if they’re back in the vents on the Falcon, fixing something Hux has never learned to fix before. “Like I could trust you no matter what. Like you were worth everything. Maybe once it was because your information was so valuable, but- but then you were valuable in a different way.”

“I don’t understand.”

Dameron reaches up and cradles his face, desperate, his touch smearing the tears on his cheek.

“I was in love with you before I even knew who you were,” he whispers. At the same time, the departure alarm goes off again and Dameron falters. “You have to believe me.”

 _Why?_ The word shoots all over Hux’s mind, drowning out every other train of thought. _Why, why, why, why, why?_

Why would someone as irritatingly perfect as Dameron ever be in love with him? Why does he always see the good in him that Hux cannot even see in himself? Why does he think, in the very slightest, that Hux is even worthy of _love?_ (He’s not even sure he knows what it means. He can’t even stomach saying the word out loud. He’s a coward like that, so how could Dameron ever see him as brave?)

It’s impossible. It can’t be true. It’s too _good_ to be true and Hux knows he’s far from deserving of anything good.

That isn’t even the worst part, as the departure alarm continues blaring in Hux’s ears. The worst part is that they’ll be flying into the hellhole that is Exegol with the possibility of never flying back out. The possibility of losing this stupid, guiltless, hero of a man because he’s the idiot at the front lines, losing his beautiful eyelashes, his beautiful hair, his beautiful arms and his beautiful lips, never knowing what it feels like for them to touch his own because it’s a reality he could only come harrowingly close to.

Hux thinks briefly of running. Taking Dameron’s hand and running. Running to somewhere far away, where the Sith and the Emperor can’t touch them. Somewhere with white and sandy shores, or somewhere with snowy mountains so they can sit inside some isolated cabin and watch the rest of the galaxy burn.

He’s never done it before. He’s thought of it many times, but none of it ever seemed to be worth the risk. At least, not until now.

Dameron is worth a hundred risks.

But as Hux looks into his pleading brown eyes, how the light from inside the waiting transport illuminates his face, his pilots’ gloves shoved into one pocket, ready to be worn, he _knows._

In a hundred risks, not one would include Dameron following him out of this.

If there’s one thing he’s certain of at this point, amidst this pre-war chaos, is that Dameron is a fighter, not a deserter.

Not like him.

* * *

For a long time, Hux does not say anything. He just stands there, his eyes darting up and down, either side of his face cupped within Poe’s hands. He almost seems as if he’s trying to hold himself back.

Which is the last thing Poe wants right now. He, on the other hand, has nothing left but delirious hope.

He swipes a thumb across Hux’s smooth pale cheek. “Babe, please say something.” The departure alarm loudens. “We don’t have much time—”

“Poe,” Hux murmurs completely out of nowhere.

And _stars,_ hearing his own first name fall from lips that have only ever uttered his last… it feels like a whole damn miracle. It feels like letting out a breath that’s been held for ages. The key to a lock in his heart he didn’t even know he had.

But Hux isn’t finished. “You can’t just _say_ things like that.”

Then he encircles his hands around Poe’s wrists and peels himself away.

* * *

Hux boards the transport, his mind in a complete fuzz, and he doesn’t look back. _Wills_ himself not to, because he can already feel Poe’s despair as it reaches out with invisible arms, trying to pull him back, trying to _stay_ with him as long as possible before the jaws of war close in on them.

He makes it as far as two minutes, busying himself with preparations and checking in with the transport’s pilot about the launch sequence. It’s when the traitor Finn and Tico come up the ramp, when he really starts losing his composure, trembling from head to foot. Tico is the one who notices first.

“You okay?” she asks, with an odd look on her face, like she’s questioning herself, why she even bothered to ask someone who murdered a whole star system if they’re okay.

Hux only glares at her, and she raises her hands in surrender before retreating to join Finn. The transport starts rising at last, and the pressure of takeoff sparks a last minute resort inside him - he peeks through the nearest viewport to see if Poe is still there. He doubts so, because he’s _Black Leader,_ he has other more important duties to attend to rather than stand there and watch a ruddy little transport leave… 

But there he is, like he’s affixed to the ground where Hux had last seen him, neck craned upwards as the wind of the thrusters tosses his dark flyaway hair, wearing an expression so miserable Hux wishes he could use the Force and haul him aboard.

But a fantasy is a fantasy. He can only watch from above as the transport climbs higher and higher in the air, separating them.

It’s a funny view, to see a pilot from the sky, so hopelessly grounded.

 _It’s my fault,_ Hux thinks resentfully as he tears himself away from the viewport and buries his face in his hands. _I’ve clipped his wings._

* * *

_“Hey, Uncle Chewie. I need your help. It’s, uh… it’s Ben here, by the way. I know you don’t owe me any favours or… well, you don’t owe me anything, just hear me out. You don’t have to help me for me. You care about Rey just as much as I do, so help me for her. I know she can handle herself, I mean, there’s not a minute that goes by where she doesn’t prove that, but… I’m worried about her. What you said to me on the Steadfast, you were right. You were right about how I feel about her, and apparently she feels the same way. But as far as I know, she could be on her way to Exegol right now and I’m stuck on Ahch-To because… it’s a long story, but I swear on Dad’s life, I’m not with the First Order anymore and I really could use a ride. After that I don’t care what happens. I’ll turn myself in, I’ll stand trial, I’ll leave and you won’t ever have to see me again, but all I ask of you right now is just bring me to Exegol. Bring me to Rey. Please.”_

Chewie stops the transmission and looks up at Lando expectantly.

Lando, leaning back in the pilot’s seat in the Falcon, rubs at his moustache with an unreadable look in his eye.

“Play it again.”

Chewie groans, thumping his furry fist on the control panel. YOU’VE HEARD IT THREE TIMES.

“I’m thinking!” Lando protests. “I just wanna hear it again and see if it’s really him—”

YOU WOULDN’T KNOW. NONE OF YOU HAVE SEEN HIM SINCE HE WAS TEN.

“Oh, and I’m assuming you would?”

YES. I SAW HIM JUST ONE DAY AGO.

“Let me guess, you were taken as his big ol’ hostage on his big fancy ship?”

WELL… YES.

“Chewie, are you even listening to yourself?” Lando bursts out. “He. Took. You. Hostage! On his big, fancy ship, that’s probably part of the army we’re going to fight? Hello?”

Chewie growls again. HE’S DIFFERENT NOW. I CAN TELL. AND HE’S TELLING THE TRUTH BECAUSE HE IS USING LUKE’S X-WING SIGNAL TO TRANSMIT MESSAGE.

“So what?” Lando asks. “What if he brought some of those evil engineerin' bucketheads of his and fixed up that old X-Wing to make it _look_ like he’s telling the truth— hey, whoa, whoa!”

Chewie starts flipping switches and pressing buttons, firing up the launch sequence. Lando grabs his arm in a panic.

“You realise if we do this, we’re puttin' the whole galaxy at stake? We should be on our way to the Core Worlds to make our broadcast right now, but instead we’re risking everything to save Kylo Ren—”

With a roar, Chewie shakes Lando off.

KYLO REN OR NOT, he snarls. HE IS MY NEPHEW. I WAS NOT THERE FOR HIM WHEN HE WAS SMALL, BUT HE NEEDS ME NOW. I AM NOT MAKING SAME MISTAKE AGAIN.

The Wookiee’s sentiment strikes him hard, in a place he tends not to address, in a place that buries the doubt and feelings about one little Ben Solo. It renders him wordless, and Lando Calrissian hardly ever has words die on his tongue.

So, for once, he decides to sit back. Decides to let Chewie steer the Falcon out of the atmosphere and set a course for Ahch-To.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god now that was a roller coaster innit
> 
> gingerpilot fans wya ;)))))) post-breakup, how we feelin??
> 
> p.s. i was casually scrolling through the earlier chapters and i realised poe called hux "babe" once in a message and i was like 🙃 why 🙃 not 🙃 include 🙃 it 🙃 here 🙃 for 🙃 extra 🙃 pain 🙃


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I AM LOSING MY MIND OUT HERE...... MY COUNTRY JUST WENT ON LOCKDOWN AND WRITING THIS FIC HAS BECOME MY ONE AND ONLY DUTY IN QUARANTINE LIFE. i sure hope you guys have been entertained by it so far :'/ stay strong yall we will get thru this together
> 
> sorry about the lack of a chapter last week, my braincells were NOT having it, so i decided to give yall this chapter a little early
> 
> highlights:  
> \- a day in the life on ahch-to: by ben solo  
> \- unca wanwo ;~;  
> \- rey shows up at exegol but i can't even explain how epic it is. i can't even explain what a religious experience it was, so i will include instructions so you can experience it too.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-mR5QFrKC4g - listen to this when you hit "Rey arrives to an empty battlefield. It has not yet begun."
> 
> i swear to GOD, i wrote that entire scene to this song on loop and the narrative pacing should more or less match up with the beats. it's the single most out of body, cinematic feeling i have ever had in my writing career. you will not regret it
> 
> now..... godspeed and hope you enjoy it ;)))

Ben waits. And he waits, and he waits.

Ahch-To is actually a considerably pleasant place for waiting.

For a while after sending out the transmission, he finds a sturdy stick he can use as a staff and runs through some of his lightsaber forms despite it being much heavier than his actual saber. It's a good workout though; he’s so engaged he ends up cracking it in half against a large stone by the cliff. He carries on the next half hour double wielding with the two pieces, until he grows tired or bored.

He wanders around the island, shooing away the pesky birds that are so intrigued by him that they start flocking along beside him wherever he goes. He wonders whether they are Force sensitive too.

He finds the charred remains of an ancient Jedi tree, one that he had heard to have kept the Jedi texts. He recalls, to his amusement, that Rey had stolen them before Luke burnt it down, so his inner studious instinct sighs in relief of such sacred artifacts being saved.

He visits the Jedi temple and attempts to meditate there, which works for the most part, until the birds find him again, and he retreats to the coastline in his annoyance.

On the black shores he finds an old brown robe that he recognises to be Luke’s, so he returns to the small village and lays it down beside his uncle’s bunk, out of the remaining crumbs of respect he can muster.

When Ben re-emerges, he once again finds himself facing the hut that he and Rey had touched hands. Or at least, what’s left of it. He crouches down, picks up one of the bricks, and looks up at the cloudy skies.

What better way to pass the time than to rebuild?

So he does. He plots out the general outline of the hut, observing how the other huts are held together, and starts to work.

He’s a quarter way through the structure when he realises two things.

The first is that he’s _enjoying_ the process quite a bit. Not specifically the physical rebuilding part of it, but there’s an essence of internal healing that courses through him, a peace and purpose, a satisfaction at seeing something destroyed be reborn in such an organic way. He could get used to this. Fixing things with his own bare hands.

The second is that he’s not alone. As he builds, more and more of the little caretakers peek out of their own stone homes, watching him as he heaves rock after rock on top of one another. Soon enough, they start to join in, picking up bricks from the other end of the hut and refurbishing the wall opposite the one he’s working on.

None of them say anything to him, or at least none of them say anything he understands, so they engage in a sort of unspoken agreement to get the job done.

Gradually, as they work together, the structure of the hut starts to reform, the caretakers’ motivation and hard work perfectly matching his, until the wall starts getting too high for them to reach.

Ben stifles a laugh as they try to climb on top of their peers to place the next stone on top of the other, desperate not to lose out to the newcomer who seems unnaturally more adept at rebuilding the huts that they had built in the first place.

“Hey,” he tells the little creatures, wiping his hands on his trousers. “You can take a break, I’ll finish up for you.”

They reply with something unintelligible, placing the remaining bricks at his feet before scurrying back into their own huts. For a moment Ben has no idea what to do with himself, but then two of them reappear, balancing a steaming cup of drink over their clothed heads, and they offer it to him with another blurgle of foreign words.

“Oh,” says Ben awkwardly, taking the cup. “Uh, thank you?”

One of them says something else and beckons with their three-fingered hands for him to drink it.

He obeys, and the second the hot, sweet liquid touches his lips, he can feel energy returning to his fatigued, aching limbs, and around his own Force presence so it hums with renewed power.

Great. Force sensitive _water._

Now he understands why his uncle chose to hide here.

“Thank you,” he tells the caretakers again, and holds out his empty cup. “Do you have around ten more of these?”

The little creatures only respond by ruffling his hair and patting him on the shoulder.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Suddenly, both the caretakers’ heads tilt upwards and they start pointing and chirping at something in the sky.

Ben, too, can sense it before he sees it.

He stands up, watching the clouds part as the Millennium Falcon finally drops into view.

* * *

The ship lands on a rocky outcropping next to a cliff, and the second the ramp lowers, Chewbacca pretty much flies out at him. Before Ben knows it, he’s engulfed in a mane of brown fur.

I MISSED YOU, the Wookiee rumbles woefully. He pulls back and takes Ben by the shoulders, shaking him. ARE YOU OKAY? ARE YOU HURT? WHAT HAPPENED, KID?

“I’m fine, Chewie,” Ben says dazedly, while being violently shaken back and forth in Wookiee-level concern. “I’m not hurt, I’m just glad you came.”

Chewie finally stops shaking him and looks him in the eye. YOU KNOW I’LL ALWAYS BE HERE FOR YOU. PROMISE.

Now that’s something that makes him want to break down in Chewie’s arms again, like he did on the _Steadfast._ No one’s ever told him that before, not even his own parents.

“Th- thanks, Chewie,” he manages, his throat seizing up. “Thanks for trusting me.”

The Wookiee pats him fondly on the head. YOU ARE FAMILY.

Ben smiles gingerly. “I wish things were always that easy. From the beginning.”

THEY WILL GET EASIER.

“I hope so,” Ben says, and he heads towards the Falcon. “But right now, we need to get to Exegol. I assume you’ll need a co-pilot?”

Chewie hesitates. ABOUT THAT…

 _“He’s_ the co-pilot,” comes a voice from the Falcon’s open ramp, and of all people, Lando Calrissian descends.

Ben’s eyes widen. Half of him feels somewhat betrayed that Chewie had brought along an uninvited, unexpected third party, yet another is heartened to see his uncle after so many years, at the possibility that he had come along to help him of his own will.

Lando freezes as soon as he reaches the bottom of the ramp. His facial features, what Ben had remembered to be so fluid and relaxed, now stiffen to something painfully unreadable. For a moment, Ben and his uncle stand there, staring at each other across a small distance, almost shocked at themselves, churning memories of the past.

_Running down hallways into each other’s arms, Lando giving him all sorts of exotic gifts that were wildly inappropriate for his age, his mother scolding the two of them for playing hide and seek with Threepio’s left eye._

Neither of them speak for what seems like an eternity. Even Chewie is silent, the tension in the air amplified by the insane Force presence of the island.

And then Lando, whose eyes glitter with something Ben can’t quite place, says with a dangerous undertone, “I don’t know how Chewie forgave you.”

Ben’s breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t know how to reply, but Lando continues anyway.

“I don’t know how to forgive you. I don’t even know if you’re sorry.”

HE IS, Chewie insists, but Lando ignores him, his eyes still fixed on Ben. His moustached lip trembles as he takes a step towards him.

“If you think you can just waltz back into our lives after everything you’ve done, if you think you can go home to your mother like you never broke her heart?” Lando is striding towards him now, each step, each question like a blow against his chest so Ben can’t help but flinch. “If you think I’m gonna let you fly _your father’s ship,_ when you’re the reason he’s not still flying it today—”

He comes at Ben, with eyes like fire, at a speed that will guarantee a punch to the face, and sure enough—

—Ben ducks, on pure reflex, just as Lando takes a clean sideways swing at him—

—and then wraps his arms around him in a bone-crushing hug.

“You’re absolutely right.” Lando whispers into his ear, and Ben _swears_ he could cry. “I missed you, little starfighter.”

Ben melts into his uncle’s arms, just like when he was five years old, basking in the sensation of shock and acceptance for the second time in the past minute. It’s almost more than he can bear, more mercy than he could ever deserve. When he can finally feel his hands again, he gathers enough courage to clumsily return the hug.

Maybe this is something else he could get used to. It’s not entirely bad.

“Missed you too, Uncle Lando,” Ben mumbles into the shoulder of Lando’s cape (oh, of _course_ it’s a cape).

He hears a delighted garble from Chewie, before a second pair of arms layers itself over Lando’s.

The three of them stand there, swaying together in each other’s arms, smiling into each other’s shoulders, for one blissful moment to pretend that no tragedy had ever struck this little family in the past two decades, as if Snoke, Palpatine and the war did not exist.

As if Han Solo had never left.

* * *

Lando is the first to pull away. Ben notices, with a hint of amusement and a bit of boyish pride, that he’d grown a full head taller than his uncle.

“I heard about what happened to you,” Lando says, his face growing serious. “What Snoke did. What _Luke_ did, right before he hid himself away on this island.”

“Snoke got into his head too, at least for a while.” Ben finds himself defending Luke, for the first time, and not regretting it. “He needed him to get to me.”

“That old prune,” Lando swears. “You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m sorry.”

Seems like apologies are another thing he needs to get used to, since he’d been absolutely certain he’s owed none of it.

He thinks back to what Rey had said in response to his own apology to her; _I don’t think I’m the only person you should be apologising to. Especially for that._

“I’m sorry, too. I mean- for what I did to Dad- I-” He chokes on his words (stars, he _knew_ he couldn’t do it) but Lando gets the message loud and clear.

He lays a sturdy grip on Ben’s shoulder. “You’re not the only one here who betrayed your father. We’ll go redeemin’ together, yeah? Just like old times.”

Ben presses his lips together, stifling emotions so profound he can’t even begin to describe them, so all he can contrive is a stiff nod.

“You sure you’re ready for this, kid? Isn’t this your first time on the Falcon since…”

He doesn’t need to finish the sentence.

“Yeah,” Ben says quickly. “Yeah, it is. I’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” Lando smirks. “Because you’ll be the one flying her.”

Ben gapes at him, but Lando gives his shoulder one last cuff and heads back into the ship.

Chewie yips at him teasingly. I GUESS YOU’LL NEED A CO-PILOT?

“I—” Ben starts, but Chewie is already following in Lando’s wake, and it leaves him no choice but to do the same.

He climbs up the ramp, his steps heavy, carrying himself through familiar, circular halls, walls lined with decades worth of dirt, yet keeping the same musky scent that tingles a sense inside him that he can only describe as _home._

(And that one shampoo Chewie always clogs the fresher with.)

He enters the cockpit with his fingertips trailing along the doorway. As he steps through, the controls power up and Lando, who had been adjusting the hyperdrive, wheels the pilot’s chair around to face him.

“It’s all yours, captain,” Lando tells him with a wink.

“Are you sure about this?”

Lando sighs, takes Ben by the shoulders, and plops him down into the seat.

“I miss my old flying days. Hell, I missed the Falcon even more. But it’s been a long time since she belonged to me at all.”

“Lando, I—” Ben stammers, half-heartedly trying to get up, only for his uncle to push him back down.

“No, you listen to me, kid.” Lando’s voice grows stern. “Your mother would want you to do this. She won’t tell me much but I know she regrets sending you away, when all you ever wanted was to stay with your dad and learn to fly this hunk.”

Ben slowly turns in his seat, his insides shaking. He eyes the control panels, vision blurred with gathering tears and memories, fragments of it hazy with age and decade-long bitterness. For a moment it’s as if he’s back in his father’s lap, big palms pressing his little ones against the levers and pretending to send them into hyperspace. On some great adventure.

“No offence,” Lando says, and he turns away too. He’s just as overcome, but it’s still touching that he doesn’t want Ben to see it. Old smuggler habit. “But I, uh… I wish he was still here.”

 _Me too,_ Ben doesn’t say. Because a small part of him thinks something else. Something truer and closer to _real_.

Now there is no hand to hold.

Now he no longer needs to pretend.

_You’re just a memory._

Your _memory._

Ben reaches into his pocket and draws out the shimmering golden dice, letting it dangle limply from one finger as he holds it up against the light.

Carrying the weight of a pilot’s legacy, yet so balanced.

He feels Lando and Chewie watching him as he reaches up and slings the dice chain over the small hook above his head.

“He is,” Ben says, and for the first time he knows it’s true. He looks back at his uncles, the smile in his eyes threatening to spread across the rest of his face. “He’ll always be here.”

Silence fills the cockpit, along with a burst of pride and wonder from both his uncles, hitting Ben hard through the Force. It’s so palpable it almost jerks the tears from his eyes. But now is no time for tears, he tells himself.

It’s time to fight.

Out of the blue, Chewie warbles a soulful agreement and immediately moves to sit himself next to Ben in the co-pilot’s seat.

“He better be,” Lando says too, but there’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “I’mma kick his ghostly ass if he shows up to me on Bespin in the middle of the night.”

Ben bites back a laugh. Out of First Order habit. (He should probably stop doing that.)

“Oh, but we’re gonna have to take a detour,” Lando adds from the doorway, as he’s leaving.

Ben’s heart skips a beat. “What? Why?”

“You think your mother has an army big enough to fight Palpatine?” Lando scoffs. “No one even answered her when she called on Crait.”

“Oh.” Guilt, his old friend, floods back into him in currents upon currents, his blood running cold as he remembers the events of that day, the heartbreak, the indescribable rage that had sunk him to his knees in the end.

He was a fool to think he’d ever be able to hurt Rey or his mother in the slightest.

“You can make up for that,” Lando says, sensing the direction of his thoughts. “Take us to the Core Worlds, and we’ll give it another shot.”

Ben frowns. And it’s out of genuine curiosity that he asks, “If they didn’t answer her last time, what makes her so sure they’ll listen this time?”

Lando shakes his head, as if that’s a question he too has been pondering, as if ashamed that he doesn't have the answer. But then his flickering gaze freezes on Ben and his mouth tilts in the beginnings of a strange smile.

“I have an idea about that.”

* * *

Rey arrives to an empty battlefield. It has not yet begun.

The clouds are inky dark blue that seems to leak across the sky amidst streaks of lightning. She can’t tell what colour the dusty, rocky surface is. The whole landscape is tinted blue, so she has to blink, constantly, to gain any other form of colour into her sight. It’s not an easy place to be, and the fact that Palpatine must be hidden somewhere in the depths of the tilted, rectangular temple at the other end of the field does not help at all.

She can feel him. His darkness. Slipping into the confines of her thin salvaged ship and seizing hold of her nerves, sending sparks of fear down her spine.

She’d never known exactly what it felt to be scared against her will, but now she thinks she understands.

And she doesn’t know whether she feels relieved that the Resistance isn’t here yet, or terrified because her intuition tells her it’s all a trap. The emptiness, the silence besides the screaming of the lightning and the absence of a fleet or thunder.

It’s almost… _unnatural._

The ground starts rumbling.

She doesn’t even need to be on the ground to feel it. The vibrations are so great that the loose bolts in the interior of the No-One rattle, the air around her seems to ricochet off itself, and before she knows it, the entire planet surface cracks wide open to give way—

A Star Destroyer, one four times as big as the one on Jakku, rises from the ground right in front of her. She has to dart the ship out of the way as another rises from directly beneath her, none of them breaking the atmosphere but skimming the crusty surface of Exegol.

Another, and another, and another, each rising after the other. Until the fleet, massive like nothing Rey had ever seen before, starts to block her path to the Sith Temple.

The only way is in and through.

Rey swallows hard, her hands sweating as she grips the controls. The ship should be small and unidentifiable enough to sneak past, yet she can’t seem to bring herself to move forward.

Why can’t she move forward?

She can practically see herself, the No-One, the sliver of life amidst the world of the dead, as if viewed by R’iia or some other unknown god above.

So utterly alone.

 _You’re not alone,_ Ben had told her once. And he’d meant it.

She wants to believe it now. It’s all she has to push herself forward. She can feel the beacon that is his half of their soul, somewhere far away, whispering in a consolation that transcends all words but sends out a comprehensible message all the same. _Wait for me. Wait for me. I’ll come to you. I’m coming._

But she’s waited all her life. And if waiting just a little bit longer would risk getting her friends, her family, and the love of her life getting hurt, then she’s tired of waiting.

Rey takes a deep breath, her wrist preparing to snap forwards and fling her into the fray—

The comms system of her ship crackles to life, startling her.

“Unknown Transport N. O. One, please identify yourself.”

At first her heart sinks down into the murky depths of the planet because she’s _sure_ the fleet has caught her now, even before she’d even made a first move. She’s just about to berate herself for it until the comms system buzzes again with a voice she’d recognise anywhere.

“Unknown Transport N. O. One, I repeat, identify yourself or go down with this shitbag of a fleet,” The voice snorts. “What kind of a name is No-One anyway? You think you’re funny—"

Rey all but slams her finger on the response switch, praying that it has enough power to transmit.

“Poe!” Rey cries, her throat lodged with emotion. “Poe, is that you?”

She cranes her neck to peer around the side of her own viewport and sure enough, an X-Wing, black as night, with orange stripes across the sides, the one and only, has just dropped out of hyperspace.

Looks like R’iia is on her side today.

“Rey?”Poe’s voice is both disbelieving and hopeful, and Rey almost laughs at the vivid image of the face he must be making right now.

“Yes, it’s me!”

“Holy kriff, Rey! Haha! Man, am I glad to hear your voice!”

A second, smirking female voice echoes from another frequency.

“I think we all are.”

Rey turns to the left and a second transport materialises out of hyperspace, and in the light of another flash of lightning, she sees Rose Tico’s face grinning from the cockpit, alongside Finn’s, who grabs the comm next.

“Rey! Are you alright? Where’ve you been?”

“Somewhere you hate,” Rey grins right back. “But I’m alright. I did what I had to do.”

“Did you really think you were gonna fight this fleet alone?” Poe’s voice echoes in again, offended.

“Maybe,” Rey admits. “I just need to get to Palpatine. I’m going to end this.”

“Then we’ll get you there,” Poe says. There’s a tap of another button on his end of the comms. “Hear that, folks?”

And just like that, the air is exploding with more and more ships from the Resistance fleet, cruisers of all shapes and sizes, both familiar and unfamiliar, cries of “Copy!” tune through her comms, voices of people she recognises like Jess and Snap, voices of other fighters she’s never heard before, the sheer mass of them uplifting her all the same.

She hears Leia’s voice too, one that’s sick and tired of having to fight two wars in one lifetime, yet warm and vivacious as if she were young again. She senses the General’s Force presence upon the Tantive VI she commands, the determination in those deep brown eyes resembling that of her son’s.

“Welcome back, Rey.”

“It’s good to be back.”

“Now,”Leia addresses the fleet, short and savage as the Princess in her always has been. “Let’s kick their ass.”

Soon the sky facing the Sith fleet is no longer as empty and soulless as Exegol itself. Rey sees herself again, from afar, through R’iia’s eyes. And now, she is no longer alone.

She sees an army willing to follow her into the bloodbath and blasterfire that lies ahead. She sees a hundred ships recognizable all across the galaxy as a symbol of heroism, of hope; X-Wings, Y-Wings, Tantives, Corvettes, bombers, cruisers built like the late Ninka. She sees herself, the skinny spare pipe of a ship that is the No-One, at the very forefront.

She leads a battalion.

The No-One leads a battalion.

And if something as impossible as this has decided to come to pass, maybe it’s not so impossible that they’ll win.

Rey grips her controls again. Her hands are no longer sweating. Her heart is no longer pounding, or at least not with doubt. Her mind’s made up.

It’s like fear has never existed in this world.

“Godspeed,” she whispers. “Rebels.”

And she charges.

The No-One charges. And the Resistance follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID YOU LIKE IT DID YOU LIKE IT DID YOU LIKE IT
> 
> FOR THOSE OF U WHO ACTUALLY LISTENED TO THE SONG DID YOU LIKE IT DID IT WORK
> 
> bruh even if the beats didnt match up due to reading pace etc, you gotta admit the VIBES are THERE
> 
> n e ways thank u so much for reading and thank you all SO MUCH for your lovely comments <3 i'll be posting sneak peeks and processes of the next upcoming chapters on my tumblr and twitter @shruggyben so stay tuned!!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT REMINDER!! THE KNIGHTS OF REN IN THIS STORY ARE NOT DISCIPLES OF REN!! THEY WERE ALL STUDENTS FROM LUKE'S JEDI TEMPLE!!
> 
> okay but yes hi welcome back this chapter took what seemed like ages to write but turns out it's only 5.8k+ words.... it felt like 7k or 8k i swear. hope yall are doing okay during this pandemic season ahhh i'm in my 11th day of lockdown and im literally losing my mind, you have no idea how many things i have impulse bought online at this point
> 
> anyways, let's get to it, here's the highlights:  
> \- finn addresses gingerpilot breakup  
> \- KNIGHTS! OF! REN! (NEWSFLASH: THEY ARE ALL MY CHILDREN AND I MISSED THEM)  
> \- rey meets her not-grandfather palps and is sassy about it  
> \- ben solo. that's it that's the tweet (also not necessary because i didn't write to it but 100% recommend you listen to the lord and savior samuel kim's ben solo theme when reading the last segment)

Right before the Star Destroyers can start firing on them, the Resistance fleet splits down the middle.

“Ground Force One, starting our approach!” Finn calls into the commlink on his wrist cuff as they begin their descent upon the satellite on the surface of the planet.

“Copy that, we got you covered.” Jessika Pava’s voice echoes back at him, her group of X-Wings flanking their ship in a protective formation.

“Ground Force Two, ready when you are!” Jannah’s voice resounds from the second, larger transport up above.

“We got your back, Jannah,” Poe’s voice crackles from the commlink, accompanied by infrequent beeps from BB-8. “Good luck, Finn, Rose, Jessika…”

Finn peers out the viewport of his transport and Jannah gives him a good-natured wave from hers before it soars away towards the satellite on the lead Star Destroyer, followed by the defense of the Black Leader and a few other fighters.

“And, uh… good luck, Hux.” Poe adds, somewhat nervously, and then logs off.

Finn frowns. He looks at Rose, who huffs and raises her eyebrows as she collects her blaster from a rack at the side of the ship.

“How bad is it?” he asks.

“Keep in mind, this is the first time he’s called him Hux, instead of Hugs,” Rose says, and they both turn to catch a glimpse of the ginger ex-general sitting (sulking) in a corner. His face has turned so red he looks like a firemoon about to explode. “It’s pretty bad.”

Finn sighs. _Kriff you, Poe._ This is the most inconvenient time for a rejection… might as well make use of it.

“Hey!” he calls to Hux.

Hux looks up and glares at him.

“Get over here.”

Hux doesn’t move.

“That’s an order from your commander.”

Hux looks up at the ceiling like he’s trying so _very_ hard not to run himself through with his own monomolecular blade, _very_ reluctantly stands up and approaches Finn.

“You’re mad, aren’t you?” Finn asks him.

“Not another word, _Commander_ ,” Hux says through gritted teeth.

“No, no, I’m on your side,” Finn raises his hands in mock defeat. “Poe can be a monumental asshole sometimes. I get it.”

Hux narrows his eyes but stays silent.

“I want you to think about how goddamn _stupid_ that man is,” Finn continues, picking a spare blaster from the rack and shoving it into Hux’s arms, the same time the landers of the transport hit solid ground with a jolt. “And imagine every single stormtrooper out there is just like him.”

Something about Hux’s entire demeanor relaxes all of a sudden, to the point where it’s slightly unsettling to see someone so at ease at the mention of murder.

“I can do that,” he says smoothly, cocking the blaster, and it’s like he’s back to his petty self again.

“Great,” says Finn.

The ramp of the transport falls open and the rest of the fighters get to their feet.

“Let’s move out!” Rose shouts, and with a cry she leads everyone forward, blasterfire mingling the same time the sky explodes with sounds of battle.

* * *

“Do you think they’ll make it?”

Ap’Lek turns to Vicrul from where they stand watch atop the crusty Sith Temple, the flashing of lighting and blazing of ships under fire illuminating the surface of their masks.

“What do you mean?” Vicrul asks.

“Do you think, even after seeing the size and magnitude of this fleet, that they still have hope that they’ll win?” Ap’Lek elaborates, turning back to the chaos above.

“If they have hope, it’s a frivolous one,” Vicrul says.

“Huh,” says Ap’Lek, and pauses to watch the Resistance ships split into two groups, each one heading for one of the two satellites that raised the destroyers from the ground.

 _Smart,_ she thinks subconsciously. _It’s what I would do._

“They’ll never get through this in one piece,” Vicrul goes on, almost breezily.

“At least one of them will.” Ap’Lek points at a skinny little transport diving in and out of crossfire, not attacking nor defending, weaving through both Sith ships and Resistance ships. Heading straight towards them.

“It’s her,” Vicrul speaks her thought aloud.

“Yes,” Ap’Lek agrees. It’s the Jedi girl. She’d recognise that Force signature anywhere. It’s blinding enough to sense from half a galaxy away, even when her short-tempered other half isn’t here.

But that probably means he isn’t far behind.

Ap’Lek wonders where Kylo Ren is. Wonders what the hell he’s been doing, even though she probably ought not to. (The Emperor would probably kill her where she stands.)

“She’s coming for him,” Ap’Lek says.

“He’ll know what to do.”

Ap’Lek frowns from inside the darkness of her mask. “So is he our master now?”

Vicrul finally turns around to face her, although his voice holds no small degree of challenge. “Are you questioning him?”

“No, I’m questioning you,” Ap’Lek says. “What if he makes us do something we don’t want to do?”

Vicrul scoffs quietly. “When have we ever had a choice?”

“Don’t you think it’s time we did?”

“This is how we’ve worked for a long time, little sister.” Her fellow Knight scowls. “You of all people should know that. We protect the Master who takes care of us. The Master who is better than the last.”

“Better or bested?” Ap’Lek nods towards the murky colours of the unknown beyond the Exegol sky. “Because last I checked, Kylo is still out there.”

“And if he goes running home to his mother?” Vicrul says bitterly. “His mother, who has a fleet that can barely bring down a single one of our satellites? Do you have frivolous hope too, Ap’Lek? I suggest, for your sake, you choose your sides wisely.”

A throat is cleared from behind them.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Ushar pokes his head out of the hatch in the temple roof, his blade slung over his shoulder. “The Emperor’s calling. The Jedi is here.”

Vicrul turns to look at her one last time and pats her a little too hard on the shoulder as he heads back inside.

“We’re your family,” he whispers, his voice corroded by his modulator so the comforting denotation of his words is lost completely. “We’ll always be here for you. Never forget that.”

Ap’Lek glowers at him as he descends the ladder back into the temple.

“Having doubts?” Ushar asks, regarding her as he leans against the side of the hatch. “Regrets?”

“None of your concern,” she snaps, lightly kicking him with her foot as she sticks it into the hatch to begin her own descent.

Ushar only looks at her, impassive in both body language and non-existent facial expression, and she considers throwing him off the ladder as she passes by.

Then he says, “Okay.”

And he helps her down the hatch.

* * *

**“At last,”** the Emperor grouses from where he hangs from a multitude of different tubes and wires, from where the six Knights bow before him. **“My plan is in motion. Can you feel it? Her pull to the light.”**

“Do you intend to turn her?” Vicrul asks.

 **“Vulnerability is the key that unlocks all souls,”** Palpatine says. **“Makes them succumb to a power like mine. Something that has allowed myself to live for as long as I have.”**

“The Dark Side?” Vicrul asks again.

 **“No,”** says Palpatine. His mangled, skinless fingers crackle with small jolts of electricity. **“Sometimes the man who holds the most power is the man who can steal all others. The Jedi has the power I need. The power of life itself.”**

“So you’re going to steal it from her,” Ushar mumbles.

“What of Kylo Ren?” Ap’Lek asks. “He has the same power. What if he intervenes?”

 **“I have my own plans for the last Skywalker,”** Palpatine sneers. **“Perhaps my favourite plan of all. That is where you are involved.”**

“Wait,” Ushar perks up now, somewhat alarmed. It’s strangely uncharacteristic, like a switch inside him had been flipped, until he stifles it hastily with a dip of his head. “With all due respect, my Lord, that is not what we discussed—”

“Ushar,” Vicrul hisses warningly.

 **“What is it that you wanted, Ushar Ren?”** The Emperor asks. **“What did you intend to find when you came to my service?”**

“Answers,” Ushar says meekly. “Why our Master is so intrigued by the scavenger girl. How she can be so powerful—”

 **“Do as I say,”** Palpatine instructs. **“And you shall find out. The secrets of their dyad grow deep beyond explanation of the Force.”**

“Understandable, for sure,” Ushar goes on. “But our intention was never to hurt him. Our Master—”

 **“I am your Master now!”** Palpatine bellows, and all the Knights flinch, the sound of a voice hoarse with uncanny age echoing through the interior of the temple. **“If you cannot accept that, perhaps you should have died with the remaining students at Skywalker’s temple. I left you all alive for this very purpose.”**

Silence, except for the sound of everyone’s heavy breathing, the whirring of Palpatine’s life support, and the Force signature of the Jedi Rey drawing nearer.

“What do we do, Master?” Trudgen asks.

 **“Do not put an end to his life,”** says Palpatine. **“Weaken him. Wrack him with blows until he is on his knees. And then I will make him suffer in the most painful of ways, one that his grandfather proved it to be.”**

“Yes, Master,” the Knights synchronise, Kuruk slamming the handle of his axe into the crusty ground in acknowledgement.

 **“And then I will kill him myself, for what his wretched family has done to me.”** Palpatine’s milky white eyes drift in and out of focus, more faraway now than ever before. **“This will be the final word in the story of Skywalker. Never again shall they rise.”**

* * *

Minutes later, they’re watching the Jedi girl navigate her way into the temple. Into the trap.

Her Force signature is still as bright as a karking sunbeam, and even though she loses herself within the endless tubs of cloning machines, her light draws their attention like a ship in a magnetic field.

“She’s quite foolish,” Cardo says as they duck behind various pillars and pedestals to hide themselves from view. “She’s completely lost the element of surprise.”

“Nonetheless, the Emperor would have sensed her long ago,” Vicrul says.

Kuruk signs a question, pinching one of his own gloved fingers and jerking his head towards the throne room.

“The Emperor’s not the one she wants to draw in,” Ap’Lek answers. She looks at Ushar. “Remember when she met our Master on Pasaana?”

Ushar hesitates and then shrugs.

“Well, we’ve seen their bond up close,” Ap’Lek insists. “It’s explosive. Like if you ever tried to separate them the galaxy would fall apart.”

“That makes sense,” says Cardo. “That’s why the Emperor needs to kill them both.”

“Or at least one,” says Ap’Lek. “And he did just tell us he’s been waiting to kill Ben for centuries…”

“Hold on,” Ushar taps Ap’Lek’s shoulder with the tip of his blade and then gestures towards the wandering Jedi. “Are you suggesting that she’s only here as bait?”

“Maybe that’s why he won’t tell you anything about her, _brother,”_ Ap’Lek hisses. She turns back to watch the Jedi gazing up at the high temple ceiling in a look akin to both awe and uncertainty. “Maybe this was his plan all along.”

She feels Ushar shift uncomfortably behind her. “Then why—”

“Oh, Force forbid, we moon about the lovely connection between the Jedi girl and the Master of the Knights of Ren,” Trudgen mutters. “What the hell does it matter? You heard the Emperor. We do our job, we get what we want.”

“What is it exactly that we want, Trudgen?” Ap’Lek snaps. “Like Ushar said, we only came here for answers, this is more than we signed up for.”

“You two wanna go back to hunting small town criminals for a living? The exit is right there,” Trudgen snarls at her. “Try not to get electrocuted on your way out.”

“At least I’m not the one who went full-on servant mode to that wrinkly old beast,” Ap’Lek snarls right back, and she sees Trudgen’s fingers tighten on the hilt of his blade—

Kuruk pokes his into Ap’Lek’s side.

“What?” Ap’Lek whisper-shouts.

He points forwards, and everyone crowds at the edge of the pillars to see the Jedi finally slipping into the long, narrow hallway to the throne room.

There’s a short pause.

“Right,” Vicrul says, straightening himself. He looks between Trudgen and Ap’Lek, who are still glaring daggers at each other despite the expressionless layer of their masks. “Are you done playing like Loth kittens?”

“Yeah,” says Trudgen icily. “We’re _done.”_

“Good,” says Vicrul. “We have a job to do.”

And he stalks off to perch near the entrance of the temple. Trudgen takes good care to shove past Ap’Lek before joining him. Cardo and Kuruk follow.

 _Like a herd to their shepherd,_ Ap’Lek’s mind spits in frustration.

It’s not that she wants to desert the Dark Side completely and become a goody little Jedi again - her inflamed desire to skewer Trudgen through his annoyingly thick skin says as much. But still, there is something about the entire situation that doesn’t resonate with her gut.

Killing Ben Solo, for starters. The one person her fellow brothers have followed since the dawn of Skywalker. The one person who not only taught them most of what they knew, but who was also living proof that the Light and Dark Sides of the Force were not what the Jedi had painted it to be.

Vicrul was partially right in that regard; they’re a family. A highly dysfunctional one, at that, but it wouldn’t have existed without Ben. Lovesick, Force-bonded idiot or not.

Ushar is the last to vacate the area. Or at least, he looks as if he’s about to, before he stops and inclines his head slightly towards her. As if he’s afraid they’re being watched.

When he speaks, it’s in a voice so low Ap’Lek almost misses it. “You did it again.”

She frowns. “Did what?”

Ushar turns away. “You called him Ben.”

He disappears after the rest of her brothers, and then she’s finally alone.

“Shit.” Ap’Lek swears, under her breath.

* * *

She hears him even before she rounds the corner to face the flaying, spiked Sith throne.

**“Young Rey.”**

The Emperor’s presence seems to make the whole ground shake, the whole temple cave in on her, his voice so loud that it transcends mere sound, burrowing deep into Rey’s mind.

**“I am pleased to recall that this is not the first time we have met.”**

“Indeed,” Rey breathes. “I passed a few of your organically grown puppets outside. Interesting way to make my acquaintance.”

She steels herself and then starts circling the side of the throne, towards the centre of the arena that lies before it.

And gods, it is _huge._

A semicircle of empty space, scattered with dust and rocks, tinged a cold, monochromatic blue so she can barely tell what colour anything is. A ceiling as high as what seems to be the sky itself, a slit of it, illuminated with flashes of lightning, seen through a crack in the roof.

**“Impressive, is it not?”**

She turns around to face him, at long last - the vessel behind the voice, the disease, the Darkness himself.

He descends upon her slowly, whilst tethered to countless threads of machinery, draped in a pitch black robe with shining white eyes, his Force signature reeking of unsavoury intent and a strange power that seems ripened with age.

And there it is again, that feeling, that same unwilling feeling of fear, pushing her so that her feet seem to have a life of their own as they back away from the menace that hangs before her.

**“Have you come to kill me, little one?”**

“No,” Rey says, her breath echoing brashly across the wide empty arena despite the screaming of the lightning and crashing of ships up above. “Are you going to kill me?”

Palpatine crooks his skinless, bony fingers at her. **“Not yet. You have… potential.”**

Of course. He’s trying to turn her. She’s seen this motive careening towards her from months ago, ever since she’d step foot in Snoke’s throne room. Yet now even after balancing herself out as best she can, there’s a light tremor in her mind. She tries to close it off, but the darkness has already wrapped its tendrils around the open walls of her mind to keep it that way. Exposed. Vulnerable.

“I don’t understand,” she murmurs. “Why did you want me dead, if you wanted me here all along?”

 **“Foolish child.”** Palpatine spits, and for a brief moment he’s stolen Snoke’s voice. **“That was never about you. I knew my apprentice was not strong enough to resist the bait, I knew he was too weak, too far gone in the delusions of love and compassion. But you… your will, your anger, it flows stronger now than ever before. Now that you know the truth.”**

He projects her own memories at her _hard,_ so the force of it takes her completely off balance; an outstretched arm, an exploding ship raining down on a desert, cheeks wet with tears and reddened with violence, the harsh loneliness of survival, the Teedo on the spike, then her father, then Palpatine, baring his teeth at her in a bloodied snarl.

**“And now, you will surrender to it.”**

_No. No, no, no, no._

Her right hand drifts to her saber on instinct, where it’s usually hooked to her belt - when her fingers come into contact with unfamiliar ridges and she remembers - it’s Kylo’s saber. She can sense the kyber crystals vibrating with passion, revenge, bloodlust.

 _Ben._ She calls out, but Palpatine has stifled their bond and no matter how hard she struggles against his hold, she receives no answer. So she wishes, and she wishes, and she wishes with all the hope she has left.

_Come to me, Ben. Come back to me. I can’t do this alone._

* * *

They make it as far as the cover of a chunk of rocks, before stormtroopers are deployed from all directions, ensnaring the rebels in a narrow crossfire.

Rose yanks (a slightly hysterical, slightly more violent than usual) Hux by the scruff of the neck to hide behind a boulder with Finn and the remaining fighters.

She does a quick head count.

Seven of their men are already down, two injured.

“We need an escape route!” she shouts, above the sound of relentless blaster bolts hitting the boulder.

“There doesn’t seem to be any routes open at the moment,” Hux points out, and on closer inspection he’s also sporting a bleeding lip.

The commlink on Finn’s cuff buzzes to life with Leia’s voice. “Ground Force One, what’s your status?”

“We need backup!” Finn responds, wincing as the blaster bolts chip off the edge of their cover and grazing past the sleeve of his shirt. “There’s too many of them, we’re tied down!”

“How far are you from the satellite?”

Rose peeks around the corner of the boulder, assessing the distance for as long as she can before one of the troopers nearly blasts her nose off. “Too far!”

“Jessika,” Finn calls into the commlink. “Do you copy? We need—”

The second the defence channel opens, the commlink is flooded with screams of “I’ve been hit!” and “I’m going down!” and abrupt static. Jessika’s voice is barely distinguishable from the horrible cacophony, let alone whether or not she’s there at all.

“Jess!”

Static.

“Jess!”

Static.

Hux snatches Finn’s wrist. “Dameron! Dameron, come in!”

Still, unbelievably, static.

“Leia,” Rose addresses instead. “Leia, I don’t think we can make it.”

She swipes at her eyes, tearing up at what seems to be the blinding crimson flashes of blasterfire, but the tiny sob from the back of her throat says otherwise.

“Any word from Lando?” Finn asks desperately.

“Not yet,” Leia tells them, but even through the commlink there’s no denying she’s terrified. “Just hold on as long as you can, they’ll be here soon, I know it.”

And so they wait, for either death or salvation, none of them know. An ex-mechanic, an ex-general and an ex-stormtrooper, cornered together with five other comrades, tethered to life by the slimmest of hopes.

* * *

The Falcon arrives at the Core Worlds, or at least the nearest planet in it that can harbour a good signal to the rest of the galaxy.

Ben thinks fate is playing with him again, because the nearest planet just so happens to be _Chandrila_.

The sky is as clear as day and as broad as the horizon that flanks them, as they drop into the atmosphere but hang carefully above the clouds. He hears Lando’s plodding footsteps lead into the cockpit behind him.

“We should be right above Hanna City,” Lando says, leaning over to peer out the sunlit viewport.

“Wrote your speech yet?” Ben quips at him, flipping on the autopilot and preparing to get up from the pilot’s seat so Lando can take the helm.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Lando raises his eyebrows. Chewie chuckles from beside Ben, like he’s in on some big joke, and then hands him a small rectangular device connected to the main control panel of the Falcon.

It’s the commlink.

“No,” Ben says immediately, realisation dawning on him like air being sucked out an airlock. “No, are you insane?”

“People believe in you.”

Ben scoffs. “This isn’t just about you, or Chewie or Rey.” He gestures out the viewport, to the city beneath them obscured by clouds. “It’s about them, out there, who have no idea that Kylo Ren and Ben Solo are the same person.”

Lando considers him for a moment. Then, “Do you know why I really brought us here?”

Ben shakes his head.

“I came across a group of healers on Chandrila a few years back,” Lando says. “Some of ‘em looked as ancient as the war itself, but you know what they told me? ‘Heard Senator Organa’s son is missing. Poor kid. Hope he finds his way back home.’”

Ben’s heart sinks. “They didn’t know.”

Lando crosses his arms defiantly. “You don’t know that.”

“Even if they did, I’m not who they need me to be!” Ben bursts out, shoving the commlink back at Chewie in a fit of his old rage.

“Ben.” Lando’s tone grows more serious. “I’ve been in this galaxy long enough to know that it ain’t filled with princes of lost planets or Jedi knights. Sometimes it’s just filled with people who wanna be their mothers’ kid. You can’t change that. Not even about yourself.” He lays a hand on Ben’s shoulder and he softens. “You wanna know what your mother has now that she didn’t have on Crait?”

Lando looks at him like he already knows the answer, and Ben finds it in himself that he does. Another truth amidst the sea of truths, fished out from the depths of his mind.

“It’s you, Ben. It’s always been you.”

Somehow that doesn’t make him any more enlightened. Here it is again, the “Chosen One” mentality laid out at his feet for him to walk on, a path written by his ancestors for him to follow.

He doesn’t blame Lando, of course, because this _is_ something he needs to do, but if he does it he’ll be damn well sure he does it _right._

“How did you do it?” he asks his uncle, looking helplessly up at him from his father’s old seat. “During the Empire.”

And he’s not referring to just a mere speech anymore. Leadership was never his strong suit when it came to the people-parts of it; he’d been so reliant on using fear (and a mask) that, with a pang of shame, he isn’t sure if he’s truly fit to lead anything or anyone.

He’s not like his mother. He’ll never be his mother, as hard as he may try.

So he’ll embody the next best leader he knows-

Lando, who chuckles and reaches over to ruffle Chewie’s fur. “We had each other. And we knew we did. Sometimes that’s all you need to win a war.”

An idea sprouts in him all of a sudden, the words materialising on the tip of his tongue like the tightly locked box in his mind had dissipated completely, the truth about his past, his present and his seemingly cursed bloodline flowing through him in the form of determination, fatigue and Solo stubbornness all at once.

Kriff it.

He picks the commlink back from Chewie’s fist and opens his mouth to unleash _everything,_ until he realises he has one last problem.

“How do I begin?”

“How all speeches begin,” Lando shrugs. “With your name.”

* * *

Leia Organa is never fazed. Not by anything.

Not by one of her commanders having the hots for a murderous ex-First Order general, not by the sheer number of Star Destroyers that had risen through the crust of Exegol.

She thinks, as she paces fervently across the bridge of her Tantive VI, watching the chaos and losses that they’re taking from where they hang just out of range to maintain a clear comms signal, hearing the screams of her own pilots as they go up in flames, that she’s as close to her breaking point as she can possibly get.

She storms back to the communications table, where holographic images of their fleet are shown alongside a static radio line that is the Falcon.

Leia slams one shaking fist on the table.

“Turn up the frequency,” she tells Connix, for the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

“It’s all the way up, General,” Connix informs her worriedly.

“Goddamn it,” she swears. “Find another way to boost the signal, we might have missed—”

The Falcon’s communication line crackles, and at long last the silence, the tension, is broken. Except Lando’s voice is not the one that breaks it.

“My name is Ben Solo,” says the frequency. “I am the grandson of Anakin Skywalker and Padme Naberrie. I am the nephew of Luke Skywalker, son of Han Solo and Leia Organa.”

It’s not a hoax. She’d know her son’s voice anywhere. The intelligent fluctuation in his tone that belonged to her, the slight drawl that belonged to Han.

It takes a lot to faze Leia Organa. Or at least, that’s what people think.

Because right now, in front of all the admirals and lieutenants in the Resistance, at the sound of her son’s voice for the first time in over a decade, Leia Organa, eyes wide, body trembling, buries her face in her hands and cries.

“Leia,” Maz says, prodding Leia’s elbow and pointing at the holographic frequency, “Get a grip and _watch_ , it’s being broadcasted all over the galaxy. From—”

“Chandrila,” Leia whispers. “Oh, my boy...”

* * *

**Federal District, Coruscant.**

_“I am the last of the Skywalker bloodline. It took me years to accept that.”_

The rain pelts the neon streets as the people trudge curiously across the city, forming a large crowd in front of a communications warehouse.

The opera had paused, newsfeeds all over had hastily cancelled all other broadcasts to make way for this one, as the most bustling world in the sector goes still for the Prince of Alderaan. His voice left to echo through what cavernous remains of the Jedi Temple.

_“For generations, descendants of my family have been known as the Chosen One. The one to bring peace and balance to the galaxy.”_

* * *

**Takodana Castle, Takodana.**

_“But they were wrong. Look around you.”_

Everyone in the cantina freezes, the music band bleats into silence.

_“Worlds on the brink of collapse.”_

The words of the Solo boy casts a long-awaited spotlight as very single patron turns to glare at the stormtroopers stationed along the corners of the castle. The only prevention of their freedom, the fall of what was once a mighty trade station.

(The stormtroopers, on the other hand, are sweating beneath their helmets, because Ben Solo sounds a great deal too much like their missing Supreme Leader.)

* * *

**Mos Eisley, Tatooine.**

_“My family failed. I’m not the Chosen One.”_

The bartender finds himself getting tips from various strangers for nothing but increasing the volume of his radio.

* * *

**Coronet City, Corellia.**

_“Not when people out there are risking their lives to go up against something they think they can’t beat, even if they’re alone.”_

Lady Proxima orders The White Worms to switch off all broadcast devices in the vicinity, but to little use when she finds out that more than half her scrumrats are already missing.

* * *

**Canto Bight Casino, Cantonica.**

_“And they do it, again, and again, and again,”_

In the casino, gambling rounds have gone on pause and machines have stopped whirring, as the broadcast echoes across every inch of the building, all the way down to the dungeons, where the prisoners stir and the security guards halt their card games, to the stables, where two children listen intently with forbidden toys drooping from their hands.

_“Because they have hope.”_

The third child, Temiri, with a Resistance-coded ring on his finger and a broom clutched to his chest, looks beyond the open gates of the race course, the stars reflected in his eyes.

_“It’s like the sun. It just keeps rising.”_

That’s right, Temiri thinks. That’s what he does, every day.

Bargwill Tomder enters behind him, with his quadruple arms and his cracking whip, smashing the nearest speaker with a string of furious foreign curses and ending the broadcast as Temiri knows it.

But he’s heard enough. He’s _had_ enough.

Tomder advances on him and raises his whip to lash out at his small body. Without turning around, Temiri closes his eyes and reaches out…

The blow never lands. His abuser is the one to cry out instead of him.

He sneaks a peek through his lashes, and before a fleeing Tomder is his whip, levitating in mid-air.

* * *

**Kelvin Ridge, Jakku.**

_“If this is what we all face,”_ Ben’s voice is faint and intermittent from a half-broken comms system in a half-buried Imperial shuttle, his message drifting through the desert wind alongside the aura of regained memories and years of lonely survival. _“Why is there a need to be chosen?”_

* * *

**Varykino, Naboo.**

_“I’m sick of it, and I know you are too.”_

The newly elected, thirteen-year-old queen sits upon her throne, her handmaidens cross-legged on the floor before her in a neat semi-circle, listening to the broadcast together.

_“The galaxy needs your hope, right now. Because soon there won’t be a galaxy left to save. Soon there won’t be any suns left to rise.”_

The young queen takes a breath and looks around at her handmaidens, who look dolefully back.

“Sod this,” she swears, to the gasps of everyone else. She rips off her heavy headdress and hurls it across the throne room, liberating her long black hair. Then she rucks up the skirts of her dress and marches out.

“M’lady!” cries one of her handmaidens. “Where are you going?”

“To see how many battleships we have,” says the queen. “Rusting away in the hangar.”

* * *

**Hanna City, Chandrila.**

_“I've been trying to kill my past, forget it, run from it. But the more I ran, the more I realised it cost me... everything.”_

The elderly healer, or rather a retired midwife, listens to the broadcast with one wrinkled hand pressed to her lips, overcome with indescribable recognition.

“I know him,” her voice emerges in a muffled whisper. “I know him.”

“Everyone knows him, love,” her husband says from beside her. “That’s Kylo Ren.”

“No,” The midwife sports a faraway look, reminiscing of a freshly ended war and a princess in labour and then a beautiful, healthy child cradled in her arms. “He’s just a boy.”

* * *

High above, Ben’s hands are shaking now, as he clutches the commlink. He stops to take a breath, and it seems in that millisecond, that heartbeat, all the memories and emotions he’d ever harboured for his father rushes up inside him, overwhelming him.

“All this time, I had something to fight for, right in front of me.” He thinks about Rey, wherever she is, whatever she’s doing, her side of the bond worryingly quiet but every present and humming with life. It’s all he needs to go on. “I'm tired of running. I'm tired of this war. I've been fighting alone all my life.”

_You’re not alone._

He curls both his hands together, remembering the soft, tentative touch, the glassy firelit eyes, the first time he realised the world was wide enough for both the Light Side and the Dark.

_Neither are you._

“But now I know I'm not.”

With a click, his heart in his throat, he ends the transmission there and looks out over the Chandrilan horizon.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

* * *

Leia leans against the communications table, clutching a hand to her chest, her eyes watery but filled with irascible anticipation.

“Do you think it worked?” Connix asks.

Leia cannot find it in herself to answer. She closes her eyes against the chaos of battle, the sound of explosions and screams and static still ringing in her ears after Ben’s transmission ended.

It has to work. It has to.

Her boy has the blood of a scoundrel and a princess in his veins, and she’ll be damned if that wasn’t the most uplifting speech she’s ever heard in her whole life. She’ll be lying if she said she wasn’t proud.

Even if no one answers his call, she’d do anything to tell him that.

The pause extends itself, and the Resistance holds its breath, one second, two seconds, three seconds… 

Then the channel crackles to life once more, and once it starts back up, it does not stop.

“This is the Ghost, from Corellia—”

“This is the Nabooian Navy, coming in from the Mid Rim—”

“Nightbrother, from Mandalore—”

“Ebon Hawk, from the Outer Rim—”

“This is the Razor Crest, reporting from Sorgan—”

“Libertine, f-f-fresh from Canto Bight—”

“This is the Millennium Falcon, coming in from Chandrila.” Ben Solo’s voice stands out among all, confident and cocky for the first time Leia has ever heard it, and for a painfully beautiful moment he sounds just like his father.

“Get us higher, above the fleet,” Leia orders, and she feels the Tantive tilt and turn and shoot towards the edge of the battle, paving a way through the clearing clouds.

And there, right before everyone’s eyes, the sky fills itself with an ocean of allies, more and more of them materialising out of hyperspace, ships of all kinds, even small fleets. A little galaxy of its own, dotting the pale blue clouds until they form a collective barrier between the Sith army and the rest of the universe.

At the forefront, darting up to lead what must be around fifteen thousand ships, is the Millennium Falcon. And inside, her son. Her little boy, the protector as always. The humble leader she’d always known him to be.

She knew she named him Ben for a reason.

Leia can’t see him from where she stands by the massive Tantive viewport, but as the Falcon zips past, dragging the blanket of their allies across the whole landscape, the whole Exegol horizon, right over and across the edge of the Sith Fleet, she can feel her son’s Force signature wrapping itself warmly around her in a hug she never knew could be so familiar. As if to say, _thank you, I’ve got you, I missed you._

“Pull up and join the rest of the ships,” she instructs the pilot, while Poe and Jessika’s mingled, now-audible whoops of surprise and delight threaten to break the channel itself.

“You alright?” Maz smiles up at her.

“I’m quite sure I’ve never been better,” Leia replies, in all honesty.

And then they both turn to watch the absolute spectacle that is the galaxy uniting for the very first time in generations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when i say i was on crack when i wrote this, i literally mean it is 12.46am as i am writing this and my back feels like it's gonna mfing snap from sitting in this desk chair for so long but fuck it tsarito is worth it. thank you all so much for your lovely lovely comments last chapter, it always never fails to make my day and heal my quarantine sorrows.
> 
> also oh my GOD i hope the split scene sequence where we jump from planet to planet during ben's speech is not confusing i wrote it with those very specific scenes in my head but they were all very cinematic so i can only hope it has more or less the same effect in prose.............


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back to tsarito chapters from quarantine!! hope yall r doing well hhhh
> 
> this..... might be my last chapter in a while because hbl (home based learning aka school but online) starts tomorrow for me so there's a high chance i wont be able to write and complete a single chapter within a single week. so unfortunately from now on, chapters will be posted 2 or more weeks apart :(( sorry about that
> 
> on another note i've had SO MANY comments over the past week (50+ comments in the last chapter what the FUCK... yall be cryign because of the story, i be crying because yall are too sweet) and people on instagram and twitter have been recognising me as the author of this fic which literally makes me so happy i cannot even explain how delighted i am :'DDD thank you all so so much it means the world to me
> 
> now, on to the highlights:  
> \- get in losers we're starting a stormtrooper revolution (ft a certain someone from canto bight.... could have easily happened in the film but jj just hates tlj THAT much huh)  
> \- my fellow sapphic warriors..... it is time.... for some angst and fluff  
> \- *BANGING POTS AND PANS* COCKY BEN SOLO COCKY BEN SOLO COCKY BEN SOLO C- BID GICK ENGERNY HFDHSJHDSJk  
> \- *wookiee noises* sad uncle hours
> 
> as for the music recs this chapter, i mostly just listened to the emperor's theme (by samuel kim) while writing that little bit with rey and palps + millenium falcon theme songs on repeat while writing the last bit with ben. by the way i fulfilled one of the og story goals!! ben flies the falcon!! wahoooo

Aden gets shot ten minutes into the battle.

Jannah is halfway through dragging his lifeless body to her orbak, her face tear-stained, her chest heaving with angry sobs, when an unfamiliar Y-Wing shoots back the troopers that had been cornering them.

She looks up and catches more and more exotic ships fly in, and when Poe’s voice screeches through her commlink in what seems to be delight, she knows the rest of the galaxy has arrived.

 _So much for being fashionably late_ , she thinks, as she looks down at Aden’s glazed-over eyes. He’d been her first and dearest friend, too dear to deserve such a death. She gently swipes her fingers over Aden’s eyelids to close them.

“Jannah! We’ve cleared a clean path to the satellite tower!” Poe calls out.

Jaw clenched, she sets Aden’s body down in a shallow trench in the surface of the Destroyer instead. _Protocol. Know when to leave your comrades behind._

“I’ll come back for you, my friend,” she whispers. Mournfully, she retreats, vaguely aware of more Sith troopers preparing to attack her from behind.

“Jannah, do you copy?” Poe calls again.

Jannah slaps the commlink button on her gauntlet. “I’m on it, for kriff’s sake!”

She loads her bow with a new and unfettered fury and slings herself onto her orbak. She shoots the troopers square in the face without turning around.

* * *

With the eight explosives Finn and Rose had set on the tower, it’s useless before its debris hits the ground.

They barrel through the thinning masses of troopers with relatively more ease, the intergalactic fleet paves a way for them with blaster bolts made of pure light. It feels like salvation.

At least, until Finn whips around to shoot at the last offending trooper coming hot at him—

_Click. Click._

The trigger is ineffective. His clip is empty.

“Kriff,” Finn swears. He looks up at the trooper, their own blaster aimed and ready to shoot, bracing himself for any amount of searing pain… 

“FN-2187?” the trooper asks.

Finn blinks.

“You know who I am?”

The trooper lowers his blaster, and suddenly his voice raises a few octaves in what seems to be excitement. “Of course! Hell, my whole division looks up to you!”

“Hold on, hold on,” Finn takes a step closer. “There are more of you?”

“Yeah,” says the trooper, pointing upwards. “Most of us were stationed in the lead sh—”

The trooper is blasted aside with a bright green bolt to the neck.

“No!” Finn screams, and turns towards the source - Hux stands there, squinting at him in disbelief.

“What do you mean, _no?”_

“Why’d you do that?” Finn shouts, as he bends over the dead trooper in a panic.

“You were the one who told me to pretend they were Dameron-clones!” Hux shouts back, waving a hand haphazardly in the air.

“He wasn’t hurting me!” Finn fumes. “He recognised me! He could have become an ally!”

He stands up to glare at Hux’s bitter, bloodstained face. And then his gaze drifts back to the limp body of the trooper he’d shot. His eyebrows unfurrow, slowly, as he looks back and forth between the two.

An idea hits him. The craziest one he’s ever had, but it’s so crazy it might even work. He turns his attention fully towards Hux and jabs a finger at his chest.

“There are more of them,” Finn tells him, his voice on an edge of desperation. “They're all here, we can't let them die.”

“All right,” says Hux suspiciously. “You can go up there and die by yourself. Why are you trying to convince me?”

“Because you were our general.”

“Oh, please,” Hux grimaces like he’s in pain. “All of you hated me.”

Finn shrugs. “We did. You were a real sick bastard. You still are.”

Almost proving his point, Hux bristles slightly.

“But if someone like you can tell that all this is wrong, maybe we can turn more heads than the ones that have already been turned.” Even at that, Hux still looks thoroughly unconvinced, so Finn shoves him indignantly in the shoulder. “Besides, you owe me one for that slap!”

There’s a pause, in which Hux looks up to the exploding sky and takes a deep breath, like he’s between contemplating and praying for strength not to shoot himself where he stands. Either way, Finn suspects it will emerge in a refusal once again.

“Oh, for the love of—” Hux groans, reloading his blaster and tosses Finn an extra set of ammo.

An act of relent to his own crazy plan.

From General Armitage Hux.

In a split second of impulse, Finn is tempted to tease him, not unlike what he’d done to Phasma during the infiltration of Starkiller. Except now it’s less likely to result in Hux in a trash compactor and more likely to result in him with a monomolecular knife in his throat.

“Hey,” Rose calls out from behind him. “Wherever you’re going, I’m coming with you!”

“You sure?” Finn asks, switching on his commlink. “I might be starting a riot.”

“I don’t care.” Rose blushes a little, for reasons Finn can’t fathom, as she adds, “Jannah might need some help, anyway.”

“Suit yourself.” And then he speaks into his wrist cuff, “This is Commander Finn from Ground Force One! We need transport to the main ship! Does anybody copy?”

He’s met with harried apologies and background explosions.

_“Sorry, Finn!”_

_“A little busy right now!”_

Finn swears inwardly, watching the distance between the ground they’re stuck on and the lead ship grow and grow, taking hundreds of innocent lives with them. He’s in the middle of forming a thousand futile plans at once, until Rose snaps him out of it, shouting his name like there’s no tomorrow and grabbing his elbow so hard that it hurts.

She points to the air, the same time the commlink on his wrist crackles with a sudden affirmative, “I gotcha back, Big F."

A blinding spotlight is cast upon them. A sleek, familiar silver ship descends, along with its entrance in the form of an elegant spiral staircase. At the foot of it, leaning against the newel and dressed in the exact same dirty garb and brown coat they’d last seen him in—

DJ grins crookedly at them. “N-n-need a lift?”

“You?!” Finn, Rose and Hux synchronise in amazement.

DJ folds his hands into his pockets with his usual air of nonchalance. “Good to see you.”

“What happened to ‘Don't Join’?” Rose squints at him.

“He got b-b-bored,” says DJ, but it’s obvious he’s only trying to play it off as an unceremonious decision.

Finn can’t help but harbour a smile of his own as the three of them clamber onto the offered ride. “I knew you'd do the right thing.”

“No wishy-washy, or I'll betray you again,” DJ tuts.

“Try it, thief,” Rose snaps.

“Funny,” Hux says. “Betrayal is sort of my thing nowadays.”

“General?” DJ frowns, pointing back and forth. “Whose s-s-side are you on?”

Hux smiles darkly. “It varies from moment to moment.”

* * *

Jannah skids to a halt as a silver ship rises from beside the Destroyer she’s on and deposits Finn, Rose and General Hux onto the platform.

She disembarks her orbak and heads towards them. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re gonna get the troopers out of this ship before we blow it to hell. One of them spared my life,” Finn explains, almost pleading, as he gestures around the huge Star Destroyer they’re on. “There’s more of us out there than we know. We gotta save them, Jannah. You know what it’s like to be trapped like this.”

He’s not wrong. Jannah remembers her old company, when they’d first laid down their weapons, as she looks up towards the shadow of the Destroyer, through the viewports, where the distinguishable figures of stormtroopers can be seen scouting the premises inside. Just like she once had. Just like Aden.

She owes this to him. To her whole company, wherever they’d been lost to right now.

“Kriff it,” Jannah says. She looks back at Finn. “Let’s do this.”

“Great!” He pats her arm twice in hasty approval and jumps into action immediately. “There should be a way in here, maybe an escape hatch.” He jogs ahead to scan the grounds.

“Where’s everyone else?” Hux glances warily around them. “Your fellow riders?”

“They’re dead,” says Jannah flatly, stalking past him with her orbak’s reins in hand. “Most of them, at least.”

With a cold bout of satisfaction, she notices the general has it in his senses to shut up rather than to meet the end of her arrow.

“Hey,” Rose strides to keep up with her now, a worried brow plastered on her face. She takes Jannah’s elbow. The contact is enough to both stop her in her tracks and pause her entire grief-addled train of thought. “Are you okay?”

Jannah looks down at her.

“No,” The truth rises to her lips as if coaxed by some unseen force, a mere whisper in the chaos of the battle raging all around them. So that only Rose can hear. “But I will be.”

Rose watches her for a moment, pressing her lips into a firm line, into some form of resolution. And then, “I’ll stay out here and look for your friends.” She jerks her head towards Finn and Hux. “You go on ahead with those two.”

Jannah frowns. “But you came all the way up here—”

“I came because I wanted to help you,” Rose says, without a hint of hesitance in her voice.

Jannah can’t help but scoff, her tongue in her cheek as she looks away. “Who says I needed help?”

“My impeccable instinct,” Rose narrows her eyes. “Told me that you’re the type of dumbass who doesn’t like asking for help when she needs it.”

“And you’re the kind of dumbass who thinks she can solve every little problem in the galaxy?” Jannah regrets it the instant the words leave her mouth, her heartbeat spiking, but Rose only steps closer, a piteous look on her face.

"Asking for help doesn't make you weak," she says. "It saves lives. If you can't see that, your friends won't be the only ones this war will take."

Jannah stares at her for a long moment, short-circuiting so hard she thinks she sees stars. Or maybe it’s just Rose, because she’s staring right back, unyielding as kriffing _always_.

Jannah sighs. “You’re right.”

“I know."

“You’re unbelievable.”

Rose cocks her head. “I’ll take it.”

Then Jannah’s orbak snuffles from beside her and surges forward, nudging its nose right into Rose’s. Jannah reaches out immediately, out to tug the eager animal back by her side, but Rose is already laughing and rubbing her own nose in amusement.

The sound goes straight to her head, clearing it of all it had been burdened with before, at least for a moment. Everything suddenly seems much… lighter.

“Pretty horse,” Rose grins.

Jannah opens her mouth to… thank her, she supposes. But as she looks down at Rose’s blooming smile, her scrunched nose, and what comes out is a hushed “Pretty…”

“Jannah, come on!” Finn yells from ahead.

Without thinking, she thrusts her orbak’s reins into Rose’s hands. “Can you take care of her for me?”

Just as their hands brush, Rose catches her fingers, twines them together and squeezes, and it feels like the start of a lifeline she never wants to let go of.

“And you take care of _yourself_.”

Now _that_ positively twists Jannah’s heart.

One of her main duties as a trooper had been to die when necessary. To be left behind as a body to step over. To know that she was just one cog in the machine, disposable, replaceable, so that she and her comrades would care less about dying in battle.

No one’s ever put her life on a line of priority before.

Out of what has to be either apology, mid-war insanity, or something much bolder, Jannah dips her head and sweeps a chaste kiss to the back of Rose’s hand.

“Don’t worry, princess,” she teases, with a strange confidence she didn’t have before. “I’ll be back.”

Then their hands trail apart, and Jannah heads off to relocate Finn and General Hux. As she departs though, she swears she hears Rose mutter after her, under her breath.

“You better be.”

* * *

Ben can sense Rey the closer the Falcon draws to the Sith temple.

No, that’s not right.

Ben can sense that there’s something _hiding_ Rey’s side of the bond, very evidently and suffocatingly blocking him out, the closer the Falcon draws to the Sith temple.

It makes him want his thrumming crimson lightsaber back. It makes him want to embody the monster everyone thinks he is and cut down whoever holds the power to keep her away from him.

DON’T WORRY, Chewie says from beside him. SHE’LL BE ALRIGHT. SHE CAN KICK YOUR ASS, REMEMBER?

Every possessive thought trickling through his mind dampens slightly, as he instinctively checks her side of the bond for the fourth time in the past minute. It’s silent, but as far as he can tell, his soul is still intact. Which means she’s still alive. He loosens his tensing grip on the Falcon’s controls.

“Chewie’s right,” Lando says from behind him, placing a hand, a comforting weight, on Ben’s shoulder. “Besides, you wanna get to your girl, you gotta keep enough sense to get through _that_.”

He gestures out the viewport, just as Ben flies them around a corner of another Star Destroyer to reveal the scene of Resistance fighters, freedom fighters, and the Sith Fleet’s TIE fighters, all doing their very best to make a massacre out of each other.

“Might wanna strap in, Chewie,” Ben says, shoving a headset over his ears as Chewie grumbles but does as he’s told. He turns and winks at Lando over his shoulder. “Care to do the honours?”

Lando stands up, shaking his head but watching Ben with the same adoring twinkle in his eyes from Ach-To. “You really are your father’s son.”

“Don’t rub it in, old man,” Ben calls after him as he disappears down the hall to the gunner position. Then he turns to Chewie. “Shields up?”

Chewie nods affirmative.

“Alright,” says Ben. “Punch it.”

The Falcon rockets forward, and Ben pulls them into a sharp somersault, right over five approaching TIE fighters. He sees red blaster bolts firing from the base of the ship, where Lando is probably having the time of his life. He can hear his uncle’s scratchy laughter echo through the comms.

He maneuvers them through the crossfire, letting Lando blast through what must be over ten TIEs, some of which had been tailing Resistance fighters, all the while keeping his attention fixed solidly on the ominous shape of the Sith temple at the end of the field.

At one point he passes a very specific X-Wing that draws his gaze for a split second - it takes out so many of the Sith fighters at once that a whole squadron of TIEs have started attacking him. Just from Chewie’s alarmed whoop, he knows exactly who’s inside. Ben hates to admit it, and he certainly hates that pilot, but he wishes he had that level of flying reputation.

He deliberately falls back behind the TIE squadron, allowing Lando to destroy all of them with three consecutive shots, sending them sailing through the air and smashing into the side of a Star Destroyer.

Then out of pure, petty adrenaline, Ben activates the intercom and speaks.

“You’re welcome, Dameron.”

He doesn’t even stay to receive a response. He blows right past the smaller fighter to salute at the pilot’s dumbfounded expression, peering out the side of his cockpit at the Falcon as he goes by.

Chewie kicks him beneath the control panels. DON’T BE RUDE.

By the time they’ve made it halfway across the Exegol battlefield, they’ve gathered a small swarm of attackers of their own, chasing them in a formation intended to flank and corner. Ben isn’t sure whether it’s because they’d just ploughed through half their fleet like a field of skycorn, or whether it’s just because they’re _the_ Millennium Falcon.

He recalls his own outburst a year ago on Crait, and almost laughs at the irony of the situation.

“Hey, captain!” Lando calls through the comms. “We need to get rid of them, or they’ll get rid of us. You know that, right?”

Ben casts one last glance at the Sith temple growing larger in the distance as they close it, unsure of whether Rey can hear him through the unknown void separating them through the bond, but he reaches out to her anyway.

_Hold on just a little longer. I’m here. I’ll be with you._

And then he veers the Falcon off-course and back into the array of Star Destroyers. The attackers follow, curving in his wake in an oddly beautiful pattern as he leads them through the spires of the massive ships.

* * *

**“I know who you really are,”** Palpatine croons, as Rey feels herself take step after step backwards.

“You know nothing,” Rey shakes her head, out of what defiance she can muster. “You have nothing.”

**“You are just a girl who loved her mother.”**

Rey stops in her tracks. Her breath catches in her throat.

 **“Yes,”** Palpatine emphasises. **“You’ve searched for your parents all your life, only to be disappointed by your father. Not unlike what has transpired with my old apprentice, Kylo Ren.”**

She grits her teeth. “We may be alike in that way, but we also have regret for it. Shame, and the will to be better.”

 **“Why weaken yourself with redemption, what the galaxy expects of you?”** sneers Palpatine, and he lowers himself to her level, wires dangling, one bony finger outstretched, nearly grazing the side of her face as he stares slyly at her with unblinking eyes. **“When you could become more powerful than they can ever imagine?”**

Rey seems frozen to the spot. She isn’t sure if her heart is still beating. “I don’t want power.”

 **“No?”** Palpatine withdraws. **“I suspect you and I have very different perspectives of power.”**

“I doubt it,” Rey hisses up at him.

Palpatine only smiles and gives a vague wave of his hand.

 _“Rey?”_ A figure steps out of the shadows from beneath where the Emperor hangs, dressed in familiar scavenger garb, clipped brown hair not unlike Rey’s.

The lightning from overhead strikes the ground beside her, illuminating the contours of the figure's face, her kind eyes contorted in sadness and longing, the edges of her mouth and eyelids dimpling with age.

Rey’s seemingly misplaced heart leaps into her throat.

“Mother?”

* * *

Ben limits Lando to only a few clean shots.

He weaves between each Destroyer for cover from the TIE fighters’ relentless blasterfire, until his uncle manages to hit around half of their pursuers. Satisfied, Ben swerves back around, blocking off Lando’s firing range, and heads straight for the temple.

“Hey!” Lando cries. “I’m not finished with them yet!”

“We’re wasting time,” Ben growls. “And it’s my turn.”

He does a head count of their remaining pursuers. Three TIEs are closing the distance between them.

He flexes his hands from where they hold the controls, closing his eyes and reaching out with the Force, honing in on the TIE fighter’s movements. He imagines them as blaster bolts, blazing towards them at top speed, threatening to put an end to every life within the ship, everyone he cares about…

And the fear that he’ll never get to Rey in time, before Palpatine turns her, sends her spiralling back down the path of grief and guilt that she had worked so hard to rise from…

There’s an explosion and a startled yelp from Lando. Ben opens his eyes to catch two of the TIE fighters bursting into flames, as a result of their collision.

“Last one’s mine!” Lando says, and starts firing at the lone TIE fighter, but with his stubbornness escalating, Ben slows down so they go neck to neck with it instead.

Just as the Sith temple looms into view once again, Ben leads the TIE right through a T-shaped spire on the last Destroyer at the edge of the fleet and tilts the Falcon into a graceful but rapid spin.

The top side of the Falcon slams into the TIE. It goes flying violently out of control, crashing into the spire and then it, too, explodes with a rain of flaming debris.

“Show-off,” mutters Lando from the gunner, and Ben can’t control the smirk spreading across his face.

As soon as they’re out of range with the mayhem of the battle, Ben dips the Falcon low towards the broken crust of the planet, careful to avoid the streaks of lightning striking the ground beside them. Soon, all grows quiet except for the thundering war up above and the chugging of the Falcon’s engine. 

Eventually, they get low enough for Ben to leave the Falcon hovering on autopilot, a few feet off the surface right in front of the ominous Sith temple. Ben tears off the headset and pats Chewie on the shoulder as he rises from the pilot’s chair. “Thanks for everything, Chewie.”

YOU DESERVE IT. Chewie reaches up and ruffles his hair with an encouraging yip. GOOD LUCK OUT THERE, KID.

Ben heads out towards the ramp, where it is descending into the murky blue atmosphere of Exegol, but Lando accosts him right before he can jump out. “You Solo men really have no common sense, do you?”

“What?”

“You really gonna go face an all-powerful Sith lord with nothing but your cocky attitude and the Force?” Lando squints at him. “I’m startin’ to question Rey’s romantic choices.”

Ben feels his face flushing red. He doesn’t need this bantha fodder now, when Rey herself is physically closer than she’d ever been since Kef Bir. _So_ close.

“What do you expect me to do? I don’t exactly have any other weapons on me right now,” he huffs.

Lando reaches inside his ridiculous, endless cape, and pulls out a blaster wrapped in dark blue cloth. He unravels it and shoves it into Ben’s hands.

“It’s been sittin’ in that safe since you were a baby,” Lando nods towards the polished weapon. “And I know it’s nothin’ compared to those lightsabers you’re used to, but it’s a little better than running in there as armed as Threepio.”

A lump rises in Ben’s throat and all of a sudden he has to suppress the urge to cry. Without meeting his uncle’s eye, he wraps him in a quick, one-armed hug.

“Thank you,” Ben whispers.

“Don’t sweat it, kid,” Lando replies as he pulls back, but his voice breaks. “Just… promise me you’ll come outta there.”

Ben’s immediate thought is that it’s one hell of an impossible promise, but at the way Lando’s eyes seem to be tearing up too, for the first time Ben’s ever seen him, he buries the truth deep down and nods stiffly instead.

“Now, go,” says Lando, giving him a little shove in the back. “Go get your girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE YOU LEAVE!!
> 
> please consider checking out my instagram @cosmicowlcosplay where i'm currently posting some ben solo cosplay content (in retrospect, when am i not lmao)
> 
> as always, tumblr and twitter are free for yall to scream at me during my mini hiatuses, both users @shruggyben
> 
> last but not least, i downloaded tiktok yesterday (user also @shruggyben) and my friends and i have been making some reylo tiktoks AND not to mention i might make some tsarito inspired tiktoks/memes like hux singing burn. hehe..... tell me if yall would like to see stuff like that and i'll make em ;-))


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's Eleanor Writes 8k Words Of TSARITO On Her Birthday hours  
> yes may 3rd is my 17th birthday and i have had the most wonderful one, if i do say so myself... i love my friends a lot and honestly it is they who have gotten me into such a good mood that i have hit almost 90k in my word count before midnight tonight :)))
> 
> thank you all so much for the sweet validating comments on the previous chapter, and i would like to welcome all my new readers who have binged this fic from the very beginning. a few chapters ago someone even asked if they could tip me with ko-fi, and honestly that is the sweetest thing, so i have uploaded a link to my ko-fi on my tsarito masterpost on tumblr @shruggyben! i'm so overwhelmed with the support i'm achieving and i cannot thank you enough :'))
> 
> i apologise for the long note, and without further ado, here are the Highlightes:  
> \- if you read the rise of kylo ren, you will probably scream at one point of this chapter. friendly reminder once again that I AM NOT GOING ACCORDING TO KOR FILM/COMIC CANON, INSTEAD I AM MASHING TOGETHER THE RISE OF KYLO REN!KNIGHTS OF REN AND FANON THEORY KNIGHTS OF REN  
> \- i can't believe that it's finally you and me and me and you just us AND PALPATINE, DODODO DO DO DO DO-  
> \- surprise! palps actually has a plan! pain ensues!  
> \- flirting while fighting? saber swap CONSTANTLY while fighting? we got it ALL folks  
> \- you ever just,,, get bi subtext,,, from ben,,,, yeah,,,,,

Ben runs, and runs, and he doesn’t stop for anything.

Not even the fact that the elevating platform that would take him into the depths of the temple is absent, leaving nothing but an octagonal hole in its wake.

He throws himself right into it, right across the distance and barely reaching the oversized chains that seem to hold up - or hold down - the whole temple ceiling. He lands with an echoing _thunk,_ his chest colliding painfully with the hard metal of the chain.

“Ow,” he groans, and looks down at the downward distance he has yet to go.

Heights do not scare him. He’s learned from Snoke, or Palpatine in retrospect, how to overcome the fear of falling, how to brace himself from it. Even if that lesson had been practically three feet away from a murder. The Force swirls around him in churning waves of darkness, he can barely sense his own Force signature.

But out of his dampened senses, there’s a light somewhere deep within the temple, one that can’t be seen but felt. One that has drawn him since the start of time. Now it flickers, faint, tainted by most presumably the Emperor himself, but ever present nonetheless. Prevailing, like she always has.

It’s enough to motivate his limbs to pick himself up and go on.

Down, down, down he goes.

Towards the darkness, the light, and the love of his life.

* * *

“Rey, ner c’yarika,” Mother says, or at least what Rey is certain to be some sick, twisted manipulation of Palpatine, as she steps closer and reaches out to cradle her daughter’s face with one hand—

“No,” Rey takes a subsequent step back, eyeing her own incarnated mother in terror. “Stop. You’re not real.”

“I’m right here,” Mother reassures her, gently, taking another step forward. “I’ve missed you.”

“You haven’t known me for thirteen years,” Rey breathes.

“But would you give me the chance to know you again?” Mother asks, with a small, sad smile. “We could be mother and daughter again. Just like we’ve both wanted.”

“Stop,” Rey says again, but her voice is weak.

Mother reaches out again, tentatively, towards her cheek, and Rey cannot find it in herself to move away. She closes her eyes, a lone tear falling down her face, as she half-expects the apparition’s hand to be cold and dead. Just like Mother _truly_ is.

But her touch is warm. And solid. And painstakingly real.

* * *

Lando’s blaster either has auto-aim, or the guards milling about Palpatine’s temple have terrible aim themselves. 

Ben takes down at least five of them, once even without looking. They don't aim for his head. Never his head, just his legs or his arms.

He’s starting to think something’s amiss, just as he skids around a corner and directs his blaster ahead. His path seems clear, and Rey’s aura burns brighter, closer, so he makes a break for it.

“We were wondering where you’ve been,” calls a sudden voice from behind him.

Ben stops, his footsteps faltering and his heart sinking. He slowly turns around, and yes, he knew he should have anticipated this.

“Isn’t it obvious, Vicrul?” Ben faces his Knight, head held high, sensing three more of them appear behind him. He gestures vaguely towards his undershirt. “Just needed a change of clothes.”

The masked Knight tilts his head. Cardo and Ushar emerge from the side of a large stone pillar and flank him.

“Apologies, _Master,”_ Cardo snarls his title like it’s something he doesn’t mean. “We weren’t aware changing your appearance came with changing your side of the war.”

“Shut it, Cardo,” Ap’lek snaps, to Ben’s surprise. He turns to her just as she speaks to him, “You _are_ still on our side, aren’t you?”

There’s something about the way she asks it, a certain quiver in her tone that almost instinctively sparks him to say yes, that saying no would cost him something he’ll need. But then it wouldn’t be the truth.

He’s done lying. To himself, or his Knights, or anyone.

“Depends on what you’re planning to do with that in the next thirty seconds.” Ben’s eyes narrow as he gestures towards Vicrul’s weapon, held aloft before him.

“Ben,” Ap’lek says from behind him, and he’s _sure_ her voice is pleading now. “Don’t make us do this.”

“I’m not making you do anything,” Ben responds, without turning around, addressing all of them as they start circling him like birds of prey. “You all have a choice. You always should have, and I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you earlier.”

He senses Ushar stiffen from beside Vicrul.

“Now that’s something I wasn’t expecting,” Vicrul says earnestly, twirling his axe in one arm. “I’m sorry too, Master. I’m sorry that you think that’s what we need to hear.”

“What happened, Vicrul?” Ben asks, shaking his head. “You think the Emperor can give you more than I gave you? You think he’ll give you a choice? Did he give you one when he asked you to kill me?”

“You know nothing of the Emperor’s wishes,” Vicrul says flatly.

“Get out of here, Ben,” says Ushar quietly, so quietly that he almost misses it, but loud enough for all the Knights to overhear. “Please get out of here so we don’t have to do this.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Ushar?” snaps Trudgen. He shoves him with the hilt of his blade. “You wanna join him?”

“That’s enough, Trudgen,” Ben says testily. “Some of us just want the freedom to choose our fate.”

Kuruk slams his blade into the ground and carves a jagged curve into the dirt as he draws himself into an attacking stance.

“You’re in no position to dictate whatever we do anymore,” Vicrul says.

So much for trying to win them back.

Ben sighs. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Yes, you do,” Vicrul says, sounding almost annoyed. “You know what makes the Emperor a much more capable leader than you?”

“Enlighten me.”

“He doesn’t fall in love with _spineless_ little Jedi girls.”

It’s the closest the Knight has ever come to making a joke, but Ben is only vaguely aware of that as his previous sentiment completely vanishes. He’s at Vicrul’s neck in seconds, Lando’s blaster up the bottom edge of his helmet and the old monster inside of him unleashed, rearing its bloodthirsty head once more.

“Say another word about Rey again,” Ben growls, his finger squeezing harder on the trigger. “Go on.”

Vicrul deflects his blaster with his axe the second he fires, the crimson blaster bolt shooting towards the temple ceiling instead. The Knight shuns him backwards, and then the circle of them tighten around him. Their vibroblades are all buzzing to life.

“I said,” Vicrul goes on dispassionately. “She’s a piece of _garbage_ who should have stayed rotting in the desert where she belongs.”

But before Ben can wrap the Knight in a Force chokehold, his brothers lunge at him, all at once.

* * *

“I would never have gotten on that ship if I knew what your father was up to, the bastard,” Mother says firmly, Rey’s face still cupped in her hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise it earlier. I could have saved you.”

“I don’t need to be saved,” Rey chokes out. Her vision blurs with tears. “But I should have saved you.”

Mother smiles, and phantoms like her don’t cry, but Rey swears she’s tearing up too. “I knew your strength came from my side of the family.”

It’s so real. So heart-wrenchingly real. They’ve barely spoken for a minute yet Rey can see her entire future laid out right next to this strange, beautiful, glorious entity that stands before her. That she doesn’t have to be motherless anymore, for the first time since she was just a child.

“I missed you,” Rey whispers. “I longed for you every night.”

“I know,” Mother says, caressing the side of her face. “But now you don’t have to. I’m here, and I lo—”

Then Mother vanishes into thin air, like she was never there at all. The tears on Rey’s cheek run cold from the missing warmth. Her jaw goes slack with shock.

_No…_

**“Yes,”** Palpatine sneers. **“That was merely a taste of what the Dark Side can do. You still think your power and allegiance lies with the Jedi?”**

“I’m not a Jedi!” Rey spits, and before she knows it, she ignites her saber by her side and Palpatine’s face is bathed in flickering blue light.

* * *

The Knights have him pinned from all directions. At some point, Ben loses his grip on his uncle’s blaster and Cardo manages to fling it far away into some blue-tinged void behind where their brawl ensues.

Now weaponless, Ben can only dodge, his heart pounding in his ears. The edge of Vicrul’s axe just nicks his cheekbone as he swerves to avoid it.

“I told you to _leave,”_ Ap’lek hisses, and she brings one of her twin blades down on him so slowly they could have merely been training.

“Why leave when I can stay and watch you pull your punches for the first time?” Ben grits out. “And why pull your punches when you could just step aside and—”

That’s all it takes. He doesn’t see it coming.

An audible crack as Vicrul slams the hilt of his axe hard against Ben’s face. He stumbles, then Kuruk hits him beneath the chin.

His face begins to burn where he can feel his skin splitting open. He can barely see through his eyes, watering from the pain. He aims a clumsy Force-push to the side and lunges at the nearest Knight, who ducks.

Someone hits him, hard and sharp across the back, and Ben falls to his knees.

He can’t make out who it is - Cardo or Trudgen - who laughs through their grey, faceless masks as they run at him and swings a fist at the back of his head.

Ben collapses, his cheek in the dirt. No matter how many times he tries to get up, he can’t.

Someone kicks him in the stomach. Once, twice, and over again. Until he feels the tensed muscles inside him snap and he swears he’s broken a rib. The pain doubles, excruciating and head-ringing, so that he barely has enough sense to summon the Force to protect himself.

The laughing doesn’t stop.

He peers up from where he’s curled in a ball on the ground, through the fingers that shield his bleeding face.

His vision swims. His face wet with blood, sweat and tears. The Knights appear blurry before him, glitching in and out of focus.

“How are you going to rescue your poor scavenger now?” Cardo cackles. “Truly made for each other. Both _so weak.”_

“Don’t—” Just like that, Ben wrenches himself upright, his entire body stinging, half-blinded. He gets as far as kneeling before he senses approximately seven blades at his throat.

“He keeps getting up,” Trudgen all but complains, as if he’s some kind of rabid dying animal.

“Do what he did to the traitor on Starkiller,” Vicrul says. He looks up at Ushar, who Ben presumes is the one pressing the broadsword against the back of his neck.

“Wh-what?” Ushar says.

“Tear his back open.”

Ben spits a mouthful of blood at Vicrul’s feet. Oh, he’s going to kill this son of a bantha. “You underestimate me.”

Vicrul only cocks his head, and all the Knights take a step back, leaving Ben and Ushar at the centre.

“You don’t have to do this,” Ben says to the remaining Knight.

Ushar shakes his head and mumbles back, as if he’s musing to himself, “They’ll kill me if I don’t.”

* * *

“Bring her back!”

Palpatine tilts his head back, with a cruel laugh. **“Poor child.”**

Rey takes step after threatening step towards him, punctuating it with a shout, “Bring. Her. Back!”

She raises her lightsaber above her head and behind her back, ready to strike. Palpatine only grins. A slow, wide grin that seems to crackle with electric darkness, engulfing Rey so she can feel it reeling her in.

 **“Do it,”** Palpatine taunts, teases, prods. As if he _knows_ she can’t actually do it. **“I can feel the darkness in you. It has always been there, since the minute you were born. Kill me, and you know you have the power to do _anything._ ”**

Rey’s saber arm quivers. Her breath comes out in heaves. There’s a spark of something, _something_ trying to lead her away from what she’s so tempted to do, tugging at the edges of her mind like there’s an invisible barrier put up all around her.

But then Palpatine leans in. His milky gaze wicked. His words are like that of a serpent’s.

**“Your mother is waiting.”**

Rey sucks in another breath. Her hand tightens on the hilt of the saber, her mind buzzing with energy, the Force, the bond…

_The bond._

Just like that, like she’d just emerged from a daydream, from a nightmare, Rey reaches out for the thread that connects her to Ben and she _pulls._

_Be with me…_

_Be with me…_

_Be with me…_

* * *

Ben hears her when the blood starts dripping down the edge of his nose.

Ben hears her just when he thinks he might be concussed. Hears her just as he starts fearing for both their lives, fearing that maybe he should have fought harder for his side of this godforsaken war.

_“Ben…”_

Ben looks up. And he sees her.

Just as afraid as he is. Just as broken, even if it’s in a different way. Just as pained and lost and _lonely._ Just as they always have been.

He sees her, and he’s just… not alone anymore.

The rest of the world fades away. _It’s just us now. Only us._

She opens her eyes, her paling face framed by her dark hair falling against her quaking shoulders, but the second she sees him, it’s like a fire has been lit. Her brows relax, her jaw unclenches and the way her eyes look right into his… she understands exactly what he’s thinking.

She always has.

* * *

The second their eyes lock, it’s like a moon and a sun colliding. It’s like a supernova over Jakku.

When Rey lets out her next breath, it’s no longer shaky. Ben gives her a nod. Small, secretive, but it goes straight to her heart.

Everything Palpatine had just incited in her, the darkness, the anger, the _hatred,_ recedes like the sea on a shore. She feels Ben’s fingers brush reassuringly against hers, reminiscent of a dream bathed in firelight. Now, where she holds the saber aloft over the Emperor, she does to it what she should have done to her mistakes, to the narrow-minded way she perceived the Force, to the ship in the desert so long ago.

She lets go.

The saber slips from her hand, and right into his.

* * *

“Kriff it,” Cardo snarls, at where Ushar is hesitating over Ben with his broadsword drooping from his hand. Cardo twirls his own blade, voice full of menace, striding forwards with the radiating intent to strike. “Move aside, I’ll do it!”

“Wait—” Ap’lek and Ushar say at the same time, just as Cardo raises his blade and brings it forcefully down across Ben’s back.

There’s a hum of energy. A bright blue flash.

Instead of bruised flesh and seared clothes, Cardo’s weapon meets the thrumming blade of Anakin Skywalker’s lightsaber, in the hands of Anakin Skywalker’s grandson.

Ben whips the saber upwards from over his shoulder as he, too, rises from his knees. Cardo’s blade is cleaved cleanly in two. He turns to face the rest of the Knights, and the Force probably couldn’t stop the breathless smirk blooming across his face right now.

He hears Cardo and Trudgen swearing. Even Vicrul takes an alarmed step backwards. The spitting blue blade in his hand seems to be laughing along with his inner thoughts, the power dynamic equalizing so suddenly that for a minute he feels like his father playing a witty trick on unsuspecting smuggler gangs.

So he channels that Solo energy and _shrugs_. “Surprise.”

There’s an astonished pause. Kuruk is the first to snap out of it, and charges at Ben with his vibroblade whizzing. And just as if he’s back on the _Steadfast_ training with them, Ben deflects every blow. His blood sings even as some of it drips down his cheek and seeps through his undershirt.

But then all of them corner him at once. He can only fight so hard with his ailing legs, stinging face and probably broken ribs. Only has the strength to parry Cardo’s relentless strikes and Force-push Kuruk aside. He’s _not_ fast enough to spot Vicrul coming up behind him, axe raised.

Ben turns just as Vicrul lets the blade fall, his eyes flinching closed.

_Clang!_

Ben opens them again, in shock and awe, to see Ap’lek and Ushar flanking him, swords overlapping like a fence barring Vicrul’s axe from his face. The two Knights fling Vicrul’s axe back in unison, adopting a defensive stance on either side of Ben. Trudgen lets out a cry of “Traitors!” and Ben can’t help but tease.

He twirls his saber at them. “Got scared?”

Ap’lek sounds like she could be raising her eyebrows under her helmet. “Got bored.”

“I never understood your infatuation with the scavenger,” Ushar says. He looks at Ben, and his genuinity can be felt even through the helmet. “But something tells me if either of you die, the Force will too.”

“That’s what I’ve been _saying,_ you moof-milker!” Ap’lek adds, nudging him indignantly.

Ushar simply sighs. “I just want this war to end.”

Ben nods. “Then let’s end it.”

When the remaining four Knights come at him again, Ushar and Ap’lek brandish their weapons and charge right back.

* * *

Rey watches the emotions of mild surprise and grim realisation chase themselves across the Emperor’s face, as she takes Kylo’s lightsaber instead and ignites it.

 **“You have made your choice, then.”** Palpatine’s whirring life support mechanism rises, bringing his shrivelled body up and away from Rey, back into the shadows. **“So be it.”**

Before Rey can comprehend what he means, the red-clad guards emerge from all corners of the massive arena, closing in on her, armed with weapons suspiciously similar to that of the Praetorian guards on the _Supremacy._

She spins Kylo’s blazing saber by her side and lets out a feral roar. She lunges at the guards, shoving away each vibroblade that lands upon her blade with a renewed vigour. Ben’s blue one is parrying away in the peripheral vision of her mind’s eye, as the bond flashes in and out of focus.

One of the guards swipes their weapon right towards her neck, and as if in slow motion, Rey ducks backwards so the blade passes inches away from her nose, balancing so she almost loses her grip on the saber.

“Rey!” She hears Ben’s voice and senses his idea before he can say it.

She tosses the crossguard saber into the air, and when she stands upright again, the saber she catches is her own blue one.

A wave of calm and patience washes over her, the feeling of the cool metal hilt bringing a bout of elegance to her strokes as she takes down two guards at once and Force-pushes one into unconsciousness.

* * *

Ben’s smirk only widens at the familiarity of his crimson blade sizzling in his hand once more. He senses a spike in fear from his Knights, and he _feeds_ off of it, spiralling and slicing ruthlessly down on their blades. He’s already broken two of Cardo’s and one of Kuruk’s, after they’d almost run Ushar through with it.

He can feel his own fury and protectiveness gradually beginning to spike as well, at least, until he senses Rey struggling.

* * *

Two guards down and she finds herself stuck in a bladelock that threatens to take her whole arm off. Her saber arm is outstretched, her hilt perpendicular to the guard’s face. He presses his vibroweapon closer and closer to the flesh of her arm.

Rey can feel the heat of it burning into her skin.

She grits her teeth. Takes a leap of faith. Lets the saber fall from her hand, and Ben’s fingers immediately replace it with his crossguard one. She ignites it with a snarl, and the crossguard blade plunges itself into the guard’s face.

The guard goes limp and collapses. She takes down another two guards with brutal ease, before turning her attention to the last four.

They surround her, caging her in.

* * *

Ben can hear Ap’lek ram the hilt of her blade hard against Kuruk’s head, and the thud of his unconscious body hitting the ground. He turns to face what remains of the Knights, Vicrul, Cardo and Trudgen.

On closer inspection, Trudgen has blue-black blood leaking out from the neck of his armour, and Vicrul’s helmet is slashed down one side so one beady golden eye can be seen within.

By rough, dazed estimate, and his body still broken as hell, Ben suspects (hopes) it’ll be over soon. Anakin’s saber thrums merrily away in his hand.

“Need some help?” Rey’s voice echoes. Suddenly he feels a warmth, a smaller back pressed against his own back, a smaller hand searching for his own hand. He reaches behind himself to take it.

“Yes, please.”

Rey twines their fingers together and squeezes for the briefest of moments. “You can have your baby back.”

Ben snorts, casting a glance at where his crossguard saber casts a red glow against the skin of Rey’s arm behind him. “Technically, it’s _our_ baby now.”

She nudges him lightly in the back. “Stop teasing and _focus._ You have a very angry Knight behind you.”

And then at the same time, they toss their respective sabers into the air. Ben glimpses a blur of her dark brown hair flying as she ducks under his arm to catch the Skywalker saber. By the time his old crossguard is back and buzzing with life in his hands, he already feels like he has the strength to take on an army.

Vicrul and Trudgen draw themselves into a final attack, swinging their weapons towards them with a growl. Ben’s saber flies up in defence along with Ushar by his side, and together they spar against the two Knights as the sound of Ap’lek’s twin blades clash with Cardo’s behind them. Eventually, Vicrul manages to file Ben away from where Ushar is being absolutely hounded by Trudgen. It’s now a one-on-one duel.

“I thought we could trust you,” Vicrul’s voice is accusatory as he spins and slams his blade against Ben’s saber hard enough to knock him one step backwards. But Ben can hear how breathless he’s getting. Vicrul’s exposed golden eye squints at him from inside the darkness of his helmet. “I thought you were different.”

“Different?” Ben deflects another two blows. “You should be grateful, Vicrul. If I were any similar to a typical Sith master, you’d already be dead.”

“I suppose I have your weakness to thank,” Vicrul grouses. “The scavenger scum.”

In the blink of a glowing golden eye, Ben brings his saber down on Vicrul’s vibroblade and _twists._ The blade is yanked out of Vicrul’s hand and thrown, most likely joining Lando’s blaster in the blue abyss behind them. Ben slashes at Vicrul’s leg, leaving a charred gash in his robes. The Knight falls to his knees with a grunt.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Ben says, raising one eyebrow as he brings the tip of his flaring saber to Vicrul’s throat. “You might be confusing weakness with strength.”

“What a good little Jedi you’ve become, Master,” Vicrul sneers. “I think I’m going to enjoy what the Emperor has in store for you.”

“Such a shame you won’t be there to see it.” With that, Ben raises his saber over his shoulder, over Vicrul’s head, rage simmering…

And with the Force, he tosses Vicrul against the goopy green bacta tank containing approximately four naked half-body clones of Snoke. The tank shatters as Vicrul’s body hits it, bathing him in decaying green bacta and the severed bodies of their old master.

Ben turns back around to brace for the next attacker, just in time to see Trudgen’s body collapsing and his helmeted head rolling away from his empty shoulders. Ushar and Ap’lek stand over him, Ap’lek’s twin blades very evidently doused in dark blue blood. Cardo’s body also lays not far away, with a suspicious bloody X drawn into the front of his chest.

It’s over.

“Why did you do that?” Ushar is shouting at her. “I had him under control!”

“And this is the thanks I get for saving your life,” Ap’lek scowls back, ripping off her helmet to reveal the stark contrast of her dark skin and the braided cascade of her snowy white hair. “You should owe me another bounty puck!”

“Kriff off, Voe." Ushar mutters, removing his own helmet and tucking it under his arm, baring his own pale skin, head bald as always, ever since the last time Ben had seen his face when Snoke had taken them from the burning remains of the Jedi Academy.

“Don’t call me that, _Tai!”_ Ap’lek throws her helmet to the ground in a temper, and Ben can’t help but grin at the familiar antics of his two old friends.

Maybe once he would have hated to admit it, but it’s good to see their faces again. It’s good to have them back.

“Don’t go killing each other before I get back,” he heeds them, and means it.

“Fine,” Voe half-heartedly sheaths her blades and crosses her arms. “We’ll keep a lookout for more guards,” She nudges the sole of Kuruk Ren’s boot. “Or if our quiet little soul here wakes up.”

“Fair enough.” Ben extinguishes his saber.

But as he strides past, Tai takes his arm. He looks into Ben’s eyes, and Ben feels a sudden warmth flood his body. The security of past memories returning to him, like recollected habits learned from the Jedi Academy. A pat on the back before a spar. A hushed ‘good luck’. An ‘I missed you’ after a particularly long mission. A ‘don’t you dare die on me’ hidden in the form of a simple touch.

Ben brings his arm up to grab Tai’s. A firm, reassuring grip.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Tai’s lips quirk upwards in the onset of a smile, before he slackens his grip.

Voe chuckles. “Go help your soulmate, Ben.”

And with one last nod, Ben keeps on running.

* * *

Rey tackles what she perceives to be one of the last three guards still standing, tumbling to the ground using the same technique she recalls from her sparring sessions with Ben.

_Yield._

She knocks the guard unconscious. She freezes an incoming spear with the Force, its vibroblade end mere inches from her outstretched palm. She gives the guard a little smirk before taking out his legs and watching him crumble.

She stands up to face the last guard, only to see him tossed aside and into the side of the spiked Sith throne.

And once again time seems to slow, and slow, and stop.

Ben Solo stands at the other end of the arena, directly across from her. Battered, bloody, bruised, but the fact that he still stands is the greatest miracle the galaxy could have ever given her. His eyes are boring right into hers, glimmering with an unbridled hope he didn’t have before, and _oh,_ how the bond sings with reunion and celebration and an emotion so utterly bright that for a moment all either of them seem to be capable of doing is stand there and _breathe._

Breathing in each other’s aura, each other’s presence, after only being able to sense it across star systems and lightyears away. After having to watch each other leave a million times over. After every fight, every tear shed, every quiet moment shared, every touch of their fingertips.

Rey can only process one thing, and one thing alone, as she breathes and as she watches him move towards her like a man starved.

_He’s here, he’s mine, and he’s here to stay._

Ben comes so close she can feel his own breath wisping against her forehead, and the smile that breaks out over his face makes her whole chest hitch with an unexplainable happiness. It feels… whole, like nothing else she’d ever felt in her life.

_Finally._

He looks at her in a way that makes the stars dim to colourless specks. He brings his hand up to brush her mussed hair out of her face, tucking it behind one ear. Exceedingly gentle, the touch tingling down the side of her neck.

His lips part, and she’s _so close_ to surging upwards and sealing them with her own, but instead he says, “Do you need a hair tie?”

It widens the smile dimpling her face, instead of wiping it right off like it would have a few days ago.

“I don’t suppose you’d have one on you right now?”

“No,” Ben shakes his own mane of black hair out of his eyes. “I could use one too.”

Gods, she loves him. She loves him so much, she could die.

**“Now, where have I seen this scene before?”**

Palpatine’s mangled body descends once again from the darkness of the arena. His supporting machinery whirrs as it hangs him before them.

 **“Ah, yes,”** The Emperor says. He crooks a finger at Ben. **“Your dear grandparents.”**

In unison, Rey and Ben both draw their sabers and turn to face him.

“It’s over. Call off the fleet,” Rey hisses. “You’ve lost.”

Bolts of lightning crackle through the air beside Palpatine, exposing split-second clarities of his wrinkled face. His mouth slowly, slowly turns upwards into a crooked, triumphant smile. A terrible chill runs down Rey’s spine.

**“I have only just begun.”**

He flicks his wrist, and both their sabers go sailing out of their hands. Invisible tethers of the Force grabs hold of their bodies and slams them to their knees before him. Rey struggles furiously, and from the desperate grunts beside her, she can tell Ben is doing the same.

Palpatine descends further, until he looks as if he’s standing on his own two feet. He regards them with empty eyes, yet it’s almost impossible just how bemused he looks.

 **“Do you want to know why I tried to turn you?”** he asks Rey. **“It was never about you. Everything I have ever done, since the beginning, was for _him.”_**

He turns to Ben, his tone sickeningly sly.

 **“Do you really think your own uncle would lay a finger on you? Let alone in your sleep?”** He pauses, indulging in Ben’s horrified gasp. Another flick of his wrist, and both Rey and Ben are hit with a vision—

_The night is cold and lonely, and inside, Ben Solo’s hut is filled with nightmares amplified to an unnatural volume. Skywalker had never felt anything like it, nothing so dark like it. But a true Jedi must remain faithful to the code, and the code says the galaxy is no place for darkness. No matter who harbours it._

_A part of Skywalker is fighting, fighting against his strange impulse, but what is an impulse to maintaining peace for the greater good of the galaxy?_

**“Yes. I possessed him to do it.”**

_He sneaks into the hut, where his own nephew is slumbering away. Skywalker’s lightsaber hangs heavier than usual on his belt, and so do his thoughts. He thinks about how this boy would bring pain and destruction and death to everything he ever loved. Now, he is the only one who can stop it._

**“I thought it perfect revenge, after what he made of me, what he made of my faithful apprentice. For him to wake up and see his own family’s blood on his hands. Him, a Jedi turned murderer. It worked perfectly for his father, after all.”**

_Instead, a flash. The brightest light emerging from the Solo boy’s mind, the sound of a blissful laugh, the feeling of hopeful longing, the love for his friends and family, prevailing as sudden as Skywalker ignites his saber._

_And just like that, the darkness, the influence that is Palpatine is expelled from Skywalker’s mind. Passing by. Like a fleeting shadow._

With a cry, Rey and Ben are brought back from the vision, to reality where Palpatine now manifests with a bitter gaze towards Ben.

 **“But you,”** The Emperor shifts closer to Ben’s struggling form. **“I had always been fascinated with you, talking to you, seeing if you would fall to the Dark. You were always so… strong. Resistant. I had given up. You were of no use to me. But little did I know the Light that you shone on me during my little assassination with Skywalker was the _last_ ray of Light you had.”**

Ben looks up at the Emperor, his eyes narrowed, and he holds the gaze even as Palpatine begins to cackle.

**“Watching Skywalker and Organa suffer from your fall seemed to be the most vengeance I could achieve. Or so I thought.”**

He straightens, and then looks directly at Rey. His blank eyes seem to be focusing on nowhere, nothing, no one, yet Rey feels as if it’s burrowing straight into the vulnerabilities of her heart. Digging straight into her greatest fear.

And then she realises it’s not her fear he’s scavenging for.

Ben whimpers, from beside her. “No…”

 **“I had forgotten to account for another spark of hope in your life, young Solo. Besides your parents and your uncles,”** He stalks closer to her, his demented smile only spreading. **“The main source of your Light was fuelled from a lowly little girl from Jakku. Your equal. Your final weakness, yet your greatest strength.”**

Rey steels herself to not flinch, not look away, from the gnarled fingers reaching up to stroke her chin.

“No,” Ben gasps. “Don’t touch her!”

 **“I needed to prove the theory for myself,”** Palpatine says. **“I knew if your love for her was true, Snoke would die by your hand. That if she turned to the Dark Side you would suffer from it as if she were dead.”** He turns to Ben. **“You may have taken a long time to realise it, but in the end… you have proven me right.”**

“You’re a coward, then,” Rey snarls. “You’re a coward for hiding behind Snoke this whole time.”

Palpatine snaps his attention back to her and withdraws his fingers. **“Am I a coward, if you are at my mercy nonetheless?”**

His machine rises again and sets him near the throne, a good distance above where they are both kneeling and shaking against the invisible binds.

 **“The Skywalker bloodline will die with you, Ben Solo,”** Palpatine says, his voice rumbling low and ominous across the arena, amidst the accompanying streaks of lighting hitting the ground all around them. **“You will watch me kill the one you love most, and I will have my revenge. My life, the Sith, will be restored.”**

“No!” Rey and Ben shout at the same time, except her voice is scalding with defiance and his, Rey senses with a pang in her heart, is a mixture of anger and fear so intense he’s almost crying with it.

 **“But first,”** Palpatine reaches outwards with both hands. **“You will give me _everything.”_**

There’s a violent yank on the thread of their bond, and Rey can tell it’s not coming from Ben’s end. A third party, bony, evil fingers grasp on to it and drags out indescribable amounts of power. Power like life itself. Feeding off of it, off of _them,_ like some kind of parasitical force.

Rey and Ben scream together. They scream like the lightning hitting the ground all around them. They feel the same pain, the pain of Palpatine clawing, sawing at their precious, personal connection. It hurts like nothing else in the whole world, it hurts like Palpatine is tearing off their limbs with his bare hands, remnants of it bleeding from their chests in a misty beam of energy that leads right into his open palms. Through the pain Rey can hear cackling, dark and gleeful and terrible, her own energy being drained out of her so she can barely keep her eyes open anymore. She can’t even bring herself to turn her head towards Ben. She can’t reach out to him. She can’t _reach_ him.

By the time Palpatine gets what he wants, by the time he releases his hold on them, it feels like an eternity has passed. Rey slumps to the ground and she can’t even remember if she heard Ben fall with her. She lays there, panting, paralysed, never feeling more alone in the past hour than she does now.

 **“Yes,”** Palpatine says, and to Rey’s horror, he sounds infinitely stronger. **“Look what you have made.”**

She cracks open one eye, and can make out the figure of Palpatine, holding up his own hands to inspect them. The bones are no longer jutting out, and his eyes no longer shine white. Instead, two glimmering irises, ringed with the colours of fire and lava, peer out at them from within his hood. His machinery has retreated into the corners of the arena and his body, now healthy, is standing by itself by the foot of the throne. He takes a step, and another, and with a smile, his raised hands begin crackling with electricity.

His eyes shift to meet Rey’s weakened ones. **“Behold, the true potential of the Dark Side.”**

In one swift move, he lifts his hands to the sky and blasts a blinding bout of lightning through the ceiling. There’s a deafening crack, and then it shoots far beyond, each bolt wrapping itself around every Resistance ship, along with every ship from across the galaxy that had come to help them.

Helpless, defenseless to stop him, Rey flips herself so her back is pressed against the cold dirt of the Exegol ground. Overhead, she watches every one of her allies get torn down, a victim of the planet’s malfunctioning gravity. She thinks of her friends and wishes she could have told them she was sorry for ever leaving them, sorry that this has happened to them. She wishes she could apologise to Leia, for not trying hard enough to protect her son, for never being able to give her the family that they’d both always wanted.

Rey reaches out again, towards Ben, _her Ben_. The thought of him alone is enough to attempt putting strength back in her body, to suck in breath after breath no matter how weak. The bond is frayed, frayed beyond recognition, but it’s there. She closes her eyes again and grasps the limp end of their connection, channelling her own Force presence through it.

 _Be with me, Ben,_ she thinks as hard as she can. _Like you always have been._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's 12.30 as of when i am writing this which means holy shit it's may the fourth as of when i am posting this whdkshfdksh how fitting
> 
> in other words, i truly do hope that action scene where they're fighting with the saber swap and shit isn't too confusing,,, it was indeed a pain in the ass to write because i had NO REFERENCE for this. the last fight scene i did was kef bir and it was just a duel and i had a reference. this on the other hand,,, i had to choreograph this shit in my head and then roughly act it out with my own saber to get the vibe lol
> 
> quarantine quirks.... saber fight choreograph in my bedroom
> 
> i hope you guys are all doing well btw!! i am slowly losing my mind. and i have assignments and deadlines due soon + the next chapter is going to be an absolute beast,, probably the longest one in the story so far, so give it about two to three weeks pls
> 
> here's a sneak peek of chapter 23 to keep yall on your toes... we diving straight back into that GAY ANGST...
> 
> "They go a little further ahead, shoot a few more incoming Sith troopers, until the emergency exit is finally in sight. Finn and the Bow Heathen immediately scramble to get it open. Hux is about to join them when a blast of ship fire nearly hits him in the chest. He jumps back, and is nearly about to throw himself at the offending ship, when he realises what it’s actually aiming for.
> 
> His breath hitches.
> 
> A black X-Wing with a stripe of orange. A crazy little ball of an astromech droid tucked behind the cockpit. And inside…
> 
> Hux runs to the edge of the Destroyer, eyes blown wide with horror as he sees Dameron struggling, slamming the controls to no avail like the absolute idiot he is.
> 
> But he’s my idiot, Hux thinks, in a complete panic as three Sith fighters continue firing at the helpless ship falling through the air. The thought of one of the bolts hitting the pathetic little X-Wing, just in the sweet spot that will turn it and its occupants into debris… it’s something he can’t even begin to dwell on. It’s something that turns all his insides to ice. Not the part of ice that makes it paralysing, but the part that is cold and sharp and ruthless."
> 
> see you guys soon ;-D


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! WARNING !! THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES A MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH !! PLEASE BEWARE !!
> 
> it's a temporary death because I PROMISED you guys and myself a happy ending so don't worry too much,,, but also when i was writing it i was like wow i'm really out to kill you guys tonight huh...... sorry about that
> 
> there aren't any highlights today because i have no idea how tf to summarise this chapter. it took me three weeks because this is THE CLIMAX of the story and i can only hope it lives up to everything that has happened so far :'/ also i should probably warn you... all the boys be crying in this chapter. like ben cries a million times bc he a soft boy who is just scared for his gf
> 
> in other news, i have made a spotify playlist for this fic!! it's just called the skywalker actually rises in this one (or search up my user @shruggyben). i also made one for tsarito!gingerpilot so if you'd like some TR & M-FALC vibes i have a separate playlist called TR+M-FALC
> 
> anyways uh... good luck reading this chapter and as always i hope quarantini is treating yall mercifully (because i sure ain't)

Poe had thought his split-second encounter with the apparent Ben Solo was weird, but this? A stormy lightshow shooting out of nowhere and breaking his streak of 37 downed enemy ships? This is _really_ weird.

“Kriff,” he swears, slamming the controls of his X-Wing for the millionth time as it free-falls through the Exegol air as if sinking through a lake. “BB-8, what are you getting here, buddy?”

BB-8 beeps their harried reply.

“All of them!” Poe says. “Kriffing all of the systems are down! I’ve completely lost control!”

There’s a terrified pause from the droid, and then they chirp an affirmation to their situation.

“Are you sure there’s nothing you can do?” Poe gives his toggle another violent shake. “Have you checked the—”

He ducks away from the viewport with a yell. Three Sith fighters have started shooting at him. Well, that makes everything easier, have everyone _except_ the enemy fleet start malfunctioning.

Poe glares at the little lightning bolts encasing his ship. What kind of biased electricity is this? He watches fearfully as the two X-Wings in front of him are blown to stardust with a single shot from the enemy fighters. And then he starts slamming the controls again.

The trio of Sith fighters only keep closing in.

“We gotta figure something out, or our entire air force is toast!”

Before BB-8 can reply, one of the fighter’s bolts hits dangerously close to the main thruster. Part of the wing briefly bursts into flames.

“Or more specifically,” Poe says in a daze, his heart leaping in his chest. “We’re going to be as easy a target as a slice of meat is to a Wookiee.”

* * *

“What the hell is going on?” Hux looks out at the breathtaking scene before them, lightning sparking from the ground up as if tentacles dragging each of their ally ships to their destruction.

The Bow Heathen watches grimly from beside him. “It’s coming from the Sith temple.”

She points to it, and Hux looks down to follow her gaze. She’s right. There’s a hole blasted through the square structure of the temple, where the lightning is emitted.

“My guess is that’s probably where the Jedi is.” Bow Heathen raises an eyebrow and sighs. She looks up at where Finn is milling around, talking rapidly into his static commlink. “Oi! We better get a move on! We can’t do anything to help them right now!”

“She’s right,” Hux calls out. “The sooner we get this done, the higher chance we have of helping them.”

Reluctantly, Finn lowers his wrist and storms past them, muttering incomprehensibly under his breath.

“Smart way of putting it, General,” Bow Heathen remarks, before hastily slipping ahead to join Finn.

Hux raises his eyebrows and holds back a smug grin. That’s a first.

They go a little further ahead, shoot a few more incoming Sith troopers, until the emergency exit is finally in sight. Finn and the Bow Heathen immediately scramble to get it open. Hux is about to join them when a blast of ship fire nearly hits him in the chest. He jumps back, and is nearly about to throw himself at the offending ship, when he realises what it’s actually aiming for.

His breath hitches.

A black X-Wing with a stripe of orange. A crazy little ball of an astromech droid tucked behind the cockpit. And inside…

Hux runs to the edge of the Destroyer, eyes blown wide with horror as he sees Dameron struggling, slamming the controls to no avail like the absolute idiot he is.

 _But he’s my idiot,_ something primal and possessive muses deep inside him, as the three Sith fighters continue firing at the helpless ship falling through the air. The thought of one of the bolts hitting the pathetic little X-Wing, just in the sweet spot that will turn it and its occupants into raining debris… it turns all his insides to ice. Not the part of ice that makes it paralysing, but the part that is cold and sharp and ruthless.

He ignores Finn’s outcry of “Oh, _now_ you’re concerned!” and looks around for something, anything, that could take down three Sith fighters without him actually jumping onto one of them and destroying it with his monomolecular blade.

And there, just a little farther down from the emergency exit, is a built-in cannon, manned by a single Sith trooper. Without another moment’s hesitation, Hux runs right past Finn and the Bow Heathen, right up to the cannon.

He clambers onto the spinning ground weapon and unsheaths his blade. Lucky for him, the trooper notices him too late.

“Hi,” Hux says flatly, and then sinks his blade into the trooper’s neck.

He flings the body off with a spurt of blood and grabs onto the cannon controls. He’s never used a cannon before. He’s never used anything larger than the average blaster for murder, excluding the nortorious Starkiller Base. Yet somehow, what must be out of adrenaline or desperation, Hux cannot tell, his brain processes each toggle, each switch, each button, with brutal efficiency. And within seconds, he shuts one eye and aims his fire straight towards Dameron’s triple attackers with a precision he didn’t know he had.

His heart sings with an emotion he doesn’t want to call relief, whenever his cannon fire hits its target.

* * *

Poe ducks away again, as another bout of blasterfire encases his ship, and at first he thinks he’s truly living his last moments. But there’s a sudden explosion not far from where his ship is gradually sinking, and he opens one eye to see.

There are only two Sith fighters left attacking him.

With an incredulous frown, he turns to look towards the source of his saviour and Poe swears if the Sith fighters won’t kill him, this will.

His train of thought speeds, crashes and burns, so that the only remaining thought is, _I’ve been the damsel this whole time._

It’s the second time Hux has saved him, but he’ll be damned if he ever complains about it. There he is, in all his bloody, ginger glory, blasting the last two of his attackers out of the sky without so much as breaking a sweat. Poe doesn’t even realise he’s smiling until his heart almost stops when Hux _smiles right back at him,_ his lips turning upwards at one corner in the most ‘you owe me’ way.

Gravity has given out in their favour. They just so happen to be level with each other when Hux climbs down from the cannon and starts striding out towards him.

For a moment, just a moment, it’s like their argument never happened. Like they’d always been like this, as TR and M-FALC or General Armitage Hux and Commander Poe Dameron. Like they’ve always looked at each other the way that they’re looking at each other now. Poe can spare a moment to imagine that things will sort themselves out as soon as the war is over, as soon as they both get out of this. He’ll get his chance to be as cheesy as he could ever wish. He’ll take Hux to go stargazing, maybe grab a drink, steal a little something if he’s lucky.

For a moment, just in that moment, both of them seem to share that thought, unspoken but precious beyond measure. Hux’s eyes are still locked on his, filled with what seems to be relief and smug elation and it’s going so well, but by the time Poe realises it’s going just a little too well for too long, it’s too late.

Hux takes one more step.

There’s a flash of green blaster fire. Hux is thrown backwards with the impact, landing with a heavy thump a few feet away on the surface of the Destroyer.

And he doesn’t get back up.

There’s a smoking hole at the front of his shirt.

_“No!”_

Poe screams, like the whole world goes crumbling down with him, like everything he’s ever fought for has lost all it’s hope, and then he’s slamming the hand that was slamming the controls against the side of his viewport.

Of course, he achieves the same results. Gravity churns back to life, but Hux does not. The X-Wing keeps sinking.

And the last thing he sees before he falls beneath the Destroyer, through watery vision, is two armed Sith troopers running to stand over Hux’s motionless body.

Suddenly, Poe thinks as he blinks the angry tears from his eyes, maybe falling to his own death isn’t such a bad idea right now.

* * *

Rey feels Ben get up first.

She can barely turn her head to face him, hearing his soft huffs of effort and the rustle of his clothing as he plants one knee on the ground, climbing to all fours.

He’d been thrown back a little farther across the room from her. She can’t see his face, curtained with locks of his dark hair, but she can tell his pain is immense. She’s about to reach out to him, maybe siphon some of the pain to dampen his agony. Instead a scream rips from her throat, as Palpatine reaches out with the Force before she can, his beady, fiery eyes turning their way, lightning still streaking from his fingertips into the sky. Ben’s body is forced upright on his knees once more, as if ensnared by some giant invisible hand. He winces and struggles, and when Rey finally wrenches her head to face his, he’s watching her like he’s never going to see her again. His lips move in the vague formation of “Rey…” a pleading whisper almost unheard over the blinding crackle of lightning speeding through the temple ceiling.

That itself is more than enough to awaken an ancient anger far within her, an anger manifesting into a single thought that wipes out all else.

_You’ve taken enough from him._

Gritting her teeth and clutching at her ribs, Rey pushes through every last bloodless sensation, every last violent tremor of pain erupting through her body. And the next thing she knows, she’s on her feet before Palpatine can stop her. He makes no move until she summons her saber into her hand and ignites it.

Then finally, _finally,_ Palpatine lowers his hands from the sky, the last buzzing wisps of lightning flaking upwards and away from the tips of his healed fingers.

He turns his gaze on her. And with a tilt of his head, he smiles. It’s not a pretty sight. It seems to send another shockwave of lightning down to the base of her spine. When he speaks, he uses something akin to Snoke’s mocking tone.

**“Still, never giving up. You have the spirit of a true Jedi.”**

“I am no Jedi,” Rey spits out. “I’m trying to be better.”

 **“Your efforts will only result in your death,”** Palpatine sneers, as he takes step after step towards her.

“No!” Ben cries, muffled from the distance, and Rey can see him in her peripheral vision struggling harder against his invisible bonds.

“That won’t happen,” she says roughly.

 **“I hope you are watching, young Solo,”** Palpatine snarls. He raises his hands, reaching out towards her. **“This is the beginning of your end.”**

And then all at once, Rey just manages to bring her lightsaber up to shield herself as Palpatine throws a blast of lightning at her, its electric energy wrapping itself around her blade, pushing her feet back through the dust. Ben is shouting something but she can’t make out what. The combined light from her saber and the lightning is blinding her so intensely she has to turn her head away.

The force of it all seems to encase her whole body, overwhelming all her senses and vibrating with dark power up through her very fingers. Palpatine laughs, and increases the intensity of his powers. Frantic and blind, Rey throws one palm out behind her and Kylo’s saber flies into her hand. She ignites it too, and slams it forward to create an X in front of her face.

Immediately, the lightning, that was tinted blue from the colour of her own saber blade, sparks into purple with the added crimson from Kylo’s. 

But amidst Ben’s terrified screams that vaguely resemble her name, Palpatine’s cruel laughter and the spitting of the lightning on her intersected blades, Rey feels her whole body being pushed ever backwards.

Her hands start to tremble and burn.

* * *

The lightning subsides as abruptly as it had come. One minute Poe is sitting in his cockpit in a daze, watching the rest of his comrades go down with frankly less concern and more desire to join them than he should be feeling, the next his sensors and screens blink back to life, everyone’s voices flooding back into the comms at once. The crackling, electric tentacles retreat into thin air, and then Poe is launching himself back into the sky, with his hands gripping the controls so hard they might break. BB-8 is screaming in the back.

He shoots up right next to the Destroyer Hux was on, and his chest clenches painfully as if he was the one who’d been shot.

Hux is gone. Or at least his body is.

So for a moment, Poe takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and pretends it never happened. Pretends it was all a nightmare. Besides, he’s pretty much living one right now. Who knows what reality is anymore, in this strange undiscovered world of Exegol?

“Poe, what do we do now?” Jessika’s voice snaps him from his thoughts. “Stick to the plan?”

“Continue the attack,” Poe finds himself saying, with a coldness he didn’t think he had. “Hit them as hard as you can. Hit them all.”

“Copy that—”

“Wait!” Finn’s voice butts in. He pauses, there’s a thump and a groan from someone else on his end of the comms, and then he continues, like he’s out of breath. “Hold the attack! We’re trying… to save lives here! The troopers…” Finn pauses again, huffing and puffing. “The troopers could turn to our side. We can’t just kill them like animals, or we’re no better than the First Order. You need to give us more time to convince them.”

Poe sighs. “Are you sure about this? It’s a huge risk.”

“We know,” Finn says. “We were part of them once. If we got a second chance, then they should too.”

There’s a short scuffle and an indistinguishable whisper that Poe assumes is Jannah.

“Okay,” he relents. “Okay, fine. But hurry.”

* * *

“You didn’t tell him.” Jannah looks up at Finn from where she’d dragged Hux’s body behind the deck cannon.

Finn deactivates his commlink. “And what? Risk getting him distracted?”

“I may not like this ginger idiot, but I know someone’s whipped when I see it.” Jannah quirks an eyebrow at him. “Poe’s probably devastated.”

“Well, too late to tell him now.” Finn crouches down to join her, glancing uneasily at Hux’s face. The man was always so pale he can’t tell whether any blood has drained from his body or not. Slowly, he brings two fingers up to press against the underside of Hux’s jaw, to detect a heartbeat or, most likely, the lack thereof—

—when Hux’s hand whips out and grabs his.

Finn nearly screams.

“Hands off,” the general wheezes, to his absolute disbelief.

“What the—” Finn chokes, pulling his hand away. “Are- are you a droid?”

“Are you impaired?” Hux scowls at him, wincing as he sits himself upright. At least Jannah is unfazed enough to help him up.

“That shot should have killed you,” she says incredulously. “You should be dead.”

Hux snorts. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

He unbuttons the top of his tattered, bloodstained, Resistance-borrowed shirt and parts it so they can see; a black laser proof vest, with a slight dent at the very centre.

“Does nothing against a lightsaber or a Force choke,” Hux says imperiously, buttoning his shirt back up as Finn and Jannah gape at him. “But it works wonders against a standard issue blaster, for instance, Pryde’s. I’ve worn it ever since he came onboard the _Steadfast_. Can’t ever trust a twat like him.”

There’s an astonished silence, in which Hux finishes smoothing himself down and combing his hair back with ridiculous nonchalance, as if he hadn’t just been blasted in the chest and cheated death.

“I- you-” Finn splutters. “You know, Poe saw you die.”

“Excellent,” Hux says, although Finn swears he _blushes_ at that. Kriffing crazy man. “Now he has nothing to worry about.”

Jannah bristles, gripping her bow. “You’re such an insolent, heartless piece of—”

“Let’s get moving, then, unless you’d like to murder me for real,” Hux says, squinting up at the sky. “The weather seems to have improved. No lightning.”

He gets to his feet and stumbles all the way to the emergency hatch they’d found.

“And to think a near-death experience makes people humbler,” Jannah mutters, setting her bow.

Finn presses her arm down. “He’s still an asshole, I get it. But I sure as hell don’t wanna explain to Poe why he’s dead with an arrow to the head instead of a blaster shot to the chest.”

Jannah half heartedly shoves her arrow back into her quiver. “I’d make it look like an accident.”

They end up blasting, shooting and stabbing their way into the main control bridge, which overlooks the hangar bay. The twelve, unarmed, uniformed officers who are manning the controls turn to face them before they can seal themselves in. Their gazes blink to a halt on Hux, jaws dropping open.

“General Hux?” one of them stammers. “But- how- they said you were dead!”

Hux whips around and advances on the dumbfounded officer. “So is that what Pryde has been saying about me?” He sniffs, clearly offended. “Coward probably knew I made a better General than he ever did.”

An arrow whizzes past his head and crashes into one of the surveillance screens in front of him. The officers yell.

“Everyone out!” Jannah calls, resetting her bow and following Hux to the main viewport. “Anyone so much as pushes a button on their way will be losing their hand tonight!”

The officers file out of the room as fast as they can, hands over their heads, and then the doors hiss shut behind them.

“Alright, blast doors locked. We’re secure,” Finn says, dusting off his hands and looking out the viewport at the hangar. “Whoa…”

Battalion after battalion of stormtroopers are marching across the premises, running repairs, doing scouts, checking gear and weapons for the elite Sith troopers to bring out into the battle.

_Perfect._

Finn moves to the control panel at the very centre of the viewport, fiddling with a few of the buttons and switches.

“You sure about this?” Jannah asks from beside him. “How do you know it’s going to work?”

“We know how they think, remember?” Finn replies, giving her a reassuring look over his shoulder. “Have hope, and they will too.”

A sharp noise comes clanging through the air, and then a high pitched, fizzing emitted from behind them. They spin around to face the blast doors, where there are sparks prickling out from one corner of the doorway. Raised voices can be heard behind the racket.

“You were saying?” Jannah glares fitfully back at him.

Finn grimaces. “Yeah, I’m gonna speed things up.”

Jannah rolls her eyes and loads her bow to stand lookout by the door, just as Finn goes back to upping the broadcast frequency.

It’s now or never.

He takes a breath.

“Attention,” He leans over and speaks into the commlink on the main control panel.

Sure enough his voice is carried out to the bustling activity of the hangar bay. Everyone, every trooper and pilot and officer turns to look up at him. Every emotionless, bucketed head glaring at them with black visored eyes.

“For the record,” Hux mutters from behind him. “Walking up to them in the hallway would have been a better alternative.”

Finn ignores him. “My name is Finn. Some of you might know me as FN-2187—”

Instantly, the hangar bay is filled with outcries of “Traitor!” and “Blast them!” and troopers directing their weapons, guns and blasters of all shapes and sizes, up at the trio of rebels at the viewport.

“Before you shoot us, at least hear me out! One of your brothers spared my life an hour ago. He told me he wasn’t alone.” He shoots Hux a withering look. “He didn’t make it out of that fight, but I’m here because he had hope. And I believe the hope that he had, that I have, and that I’m sure some of you have, is real. If you know what the Emperor is doing, you know it’s wrong.”

Finn pauses, steadying his voice.

“I think one thing the First Order keeps forgetting is that we’re people. Not clones, not killers. People. Who are unique and emotional and who _matter._ We’re not made to die, even if that’s what they’re trying to make us think. But you don’t have to hide behind a mask or your duty anymore. You don’t just have to survive. You can _live_. You can be free.” He looks at Jannah, and she’s watching him with shining bright eyes like somehow, there’s a little bit of her own spirit festering in his words too. “I just wanted you to hear this today, because I know exactly how you feel. But now I have friends, I have a family. And that’s what you deserve too. You’re all worth more than just your armour.”

There’s an elongated silence. The troopers waver. A few glances are exchanged.

And then Finn’s heart skips a beat as he spots a few of the troopers setting their blaster from kill to stun mode. A bare minimum, but he’s getting somewhere. He’s not alone.

They just need a little push over the edge.

His mind is racing what must be a million parsecs per second, trying to formulate a push. But before he can, someone from the back of the horde shouts with their voice filtered tinny through their helmet, “Is that General Hux?”

Both him and Hux freeze.

“Is this a test?” another trooper asks. “You’re trying to reveal the traitors, aren’t you? He’s making you do it.”

“No!” Finn says quickly, his stomach dropping into his boots. “No, no! This isn’t a trick! Hux is with the Resistance now—”

“I am not!” Hux says.

“Shut up and just play along, will you?”

“He’s lying,” one of the pilots says lazily. He sighs and starts boarding his TIE fighter. “Just kill them and get back to work.”

“Fine!” Finn’s brain short circuits and vaults off a mental cliff as a final resort. A literal leap of faith. He grabs Hux by the arm and pushes him forwards to the commlink. “You want your proof, your general will tell you himself.”

This may very well be the first time he’s ever seen Hux panic, especially in front of a crowd. For a moment he pities him, watching the way Hux’s eyes dart frantically back and forth to him, to the troopers, to the commlink, over and over again. He may be a snivelling piece of bantha dung in Finn’s book, but he’d saved their lives before. That’s gotta count for something. 

He almost forgets to regard the fact that he also had a falling out with Poe, shot and stabbed hundred people in the neck, died and came back to life all within the past few hours, so there’s a slight chance a deranged part of his mind might actually turn on them in the end… 

The genuine fear starts to set in the more the silence stretches. Finn is thinking _oh gods, he’s really going to murder us isn’t he,_ when Hux suddenly leans in and clicks the commlink on.

“I’m in love with Poe Dameron.”

The whole world seems to tip from the utter absurdity of the statement. Even Jannah lets out a choked noise and claps a hand over her mouth.

Yet it works on the hangar like a Jedi mind trick.

There’s a collective gasp. Every single trooper either lowers their weapon or straight up drops it in their utter bewilderment.

“I love him,” Hux all but spits, in such a classically savage way that it guarantees every word is to its truest extent. “I _kriffing_ love him, and I left the First Order because he was the only one who ever showed me what living feels like. So if he dies tonight, I will make sure each and every one of you goes down with him, even if it kills me.”

He deactivates the commlink and takes a step back.

The whole vicinity has been stunned into a heady sort of speechlessness. The fizzing at the blast door has gone out too, like the people on the other side are also listening.

Hux does not move. He’s wrapped his arms around himself, almost protectively, and his eyes are glazed over where he’s staring at the floor.

“Hey!” There’s a sudden shout from down below in the hangar. A single trooper has their blaster hanging limply from their hand. They remove their helmet to reveal long golden hair and defiant blue eyes.

“I believe you,” the trooper says, dropping her helmet to the floor. “I believe you and General Hux.” She blushes furiously and hesitates. “I… I know what it feels like to love. And I don’t want to die hiding it anymore.”

One of the higher-up officers rolls his eyes. “Terminate her. We can’t risk having any more traitors too soft for the cause.”

“I hate wearing this kriffing armour every day!” a second trooper blurts out.

There’s another scandalous, split-second pause. Like the universe holds its breath. And then all at once, in what seems like a single exhale a single revelation, more voices rise to join them.

One by one, each of the troopers follow the first, unmasking and dropping their helmets to the ground, visors lifted, faces bared, people of all shapes and colours, shouting out like their life depended on it, voices mingling in a cacophony of treasonous, miraculous truth.

“I want to find my family!”

“I’m sick of being kicked around by Pryde!”

“These helmets stink!”

“I can’t remember what being planetside feels like!”

“I don’t wanna die!”

“I don’t wanna die!”

“We don’t wanna die!”

And then absolute chaos ensues, blaster shots ringing out to the ceiling, flashing past their faces, over the wild battle cries of the self-liberated stormtroopers as they defend themselves against the various officers, lieutenants and whichever trooper who had remained loyal to the First Order.

Finn scrambles for the blaster slung around his back. “We have to help them!”

“Leave it to me.” Jannah strides over, drawing an arrow from her quiver and loading it to her bow. “You might want to take cover, dear general.”

Scowling, Hux takes a step back, and Jannah lets her arrow fly. It slams into the transparisteel of the viewport, which completely shatters under some sonic effect from the arrowhead.

And together Finn and Jannah race into action, with the matching fluidity and trained instincts of mental programming almost long forgotten, embedded only in the subconscious of their bodies as they snipe out the offending troopers and officers below.

“What’s the plan, Finn?” the blonde trooper calls to him from the fray, unloading her blaster.

“Meet us outside the emergency hatch!” Finn shouts back. He tosses the trooper his extra set of ammo. “We’re gonna take down the satellite tower.”

* * *

Blurred eyes. Ben can only see her through blurred eyes.

He doesn’t know whether they’re watering from the excruciating pain wracking his immobilised body, or the paramounting fear for Rey as he watches her pushing back against the force of Palpatine’s lightning.

He reaches out again, trying to move his limbs to get to her, to help her somehow, but Palpatine holds fast. It’s almost suffocating. The stiff sensation creeps upwards from his arms and torso, winding its way up his neck, wrenching his jaw forwards so he can no longer turn away. Forcing him to watch.

“Rey,” Ben croaks out, so weak that he can hardly hear himself anymore.

He struggles again, harder this time, and it does nothing except dislocate something in his shoulder with an audible crack. More tears well up in his eyes, and he can’t help but shut them against the throbbing ache and the nightmare unfolding in front of him.

 _No,_ Ben wants to sob, if his voice wasn’t lodged helplessly in his throat. _Don’t take her! Take me instead! I’m right here!_

 ** _“Now, do not hurt yourself just yet,”_** Palpatine sneers, his voice so cavernous that Ben cannot tell if he’s snuck his way into his mind once more or if he’s saying this aloud. All he knows, all he thinks, is that this feels like Snoke all over again, hissing in his ear like a serpent whose coils are wrapped tightly around every thought, good or bad. **_“You have one last trick of mine to watch. One I should have pulled on your family a long, long time ago.”_**

That should terrify him. He knows it should. He knows, as Palpatine’s lightning blast pulses with even more power, weaving across the arena, shoving violently against his and Rey’s crossed lightsabers, so Rey stumbles a few feet backwards.

Instead, the Emperor’s words awaken a strange, unspoken logic inside him.

_One I should have pulled on your family a long, long time ago…_

This monster had been trailing along with every first and last Skywalker in existence, across time and space, defying the balanced laws of the Force, feeding off every Force sensitive that had been born into the family. Like a parasite. Like a curse. Repeating itself, over and over again, no matter how many times anyone had attempted to kill him. As Chancellor Palpatine, as Emperor Palpatine, as Snoke or as the leader of the Sith Eternal.

Something twists in Ben’s chest. Something more spiritual than physical, a truth that should have dawned generations ago, yet so ancient that it feels like it had waited that long just to show up here, now.

Palpatine was just as trapped in the cycle as he was. As the next Skywalker would be, if either he or Rey killed him tonight.

 _He can’t die,_ Ben realises. _We can’t kill him._

He looks up, his mind racing for the unseen solution evading him. His eyes stray to Rey again, how her bare upper arms strain with the effort to hold her own, how she’s trying to take a shaky step forward, how her hair is blown back by the power of the lightning blast, how, even from afar, Ben can see the same endearing way her nose is scrunched, brows furrowed in concentration and fury.

And he remembers; a whisper from not long ago, drifting through the bond from her side to his, every now and then a chant from her training that used to irritate him whenever he heard it.

_Be with me._

He used to think it utterly frivolous. And on every occasion, Rey had proved it. The Jedi of old had no time to listen to any of their living nonsense. There had never been a response. Not when he’d spent years upon years trying to make contact with his own family, his own grandfather, to be blissfully ignored as well.

But now… things are different. Things are desperate.

And neither he nor Rey are the same person they were then. Ben knows this much. By some miracle, that has to be enough.

So he closes his eyes and murmurs, as far as his lips are allowed to move.

“Be with me.”

“Be with me.”

His Force presence slips out from underneath Palpatine’s grip, as gentle and tentative as a feather, brushing against the thread that is the slowly strengthening bond that connects him to Rey, as if something from far, far away is fuelling life back into it. With a hopeful jolt, he senses her reaching out and brushing back, like the touch of fingertips in a firelit memory, like a reassurance that spans beyond this dimension alone.

And when he says it again, he swears he hears Rey’s voice joining him as one. _“Be with us.”_

A sudden, sweeping peace fills the next breath Ben takes, and the next, and the next. Until the whole world seems to have paused in his wake. The blazing of the lightning fades into a hazy hum. Ben opens his eyes, and the cold blue Exegol nightmare has vanished.

In its place, life after life of every generation flashing before his mind’s eye, of everyone who had ever been murdered or manipulated by Palpatine even before he’d become the Emperor—

He sees an old master with a broken heart sending himself into exile, after he’d left his brother on a shore of molten lava, yet the endless, unconditional hope he brought about the galaxy made him the perfect namesake.

He sees a young queen who fought for peace all her life, who risked anything for the people she loved, who found the strength to birth her two children and believe in her lost husband before Palpatine swept her into the arms of death.

He sees a fallen Jedi who had been reckless in both skills and compassion, who gave his life for his son even after Palpatine had shrouded him with a new name, mantle and mask for years and years to terrorize the galaxy into submission.

He sees a farm boy who took his first step into a larger world and found it never stopped growing, who found the family he’d wanted, who returned for the Resistance even after Palpatine to harness his mind and forced him to make the greatest mistake he could bear.

All of them, multitudinous voices, call to him from the stars and every world in between.

_“Ben. Rise in the Force. Be the hope we know you are.”_

Just like that, something snaps, and with a tug Ben feels the invisible vice grip on his arms loosen. He feels Palpatine’s spirit shifting, his power going haphazard, and then it’s almost the same as shutting Snoke out of his head. Breaking free, after all this time.

_“Rise, Ben.”_

His chest contracts and relaxes. The grip on his throat and jaw slithers back into nonexistence.

_“Rise.”_

His knees tremble. He fights harder. The hold snaps again.

_“Rise.”_

With a cry, he puts one foot forward. Up ahead in the distance, he sees Rey do the same.

_“Get up, kid. You’re almost there.”_

This voice is one from deep within his own spirit, his own memory. Perhaps one of the first few words he has ever heard in his life. He plants his hands on the ground to lift himself up, clenching them into fists, and he can almost feel like his fingers are curling around the ones of a larger, warmer hand.

Tears drip from the tip of his chin, soiling little dots into the ground.

It’s his final heave, yet his very first steps all over again.

And before Ben knows it, he’s back on his feet. More voices have joined in, even ones he does not recognise, growing louder and louder as he approaches where Rey and Palpatine are still facing off. They no longer address only him, but both of them at once.

_“Let the Force guide you.”_

_“The balance. Find the balance.”_

_“We stand with you.”_

_“There is no darkness without light.”_

_“There is no light without darkness.”_

Ben stops as soon as he’s directly behind Rey. The unexpected calm remains blanketed over him, and from where Rey’s shoulders have begun to relax, she isn’t afraid. She feels it too.

Even though, there are charred black scars blotching steadily up her arms, electricity spilling down the crossed blades and right over her knuckles. She seems to embrace it rather than weaken from it. She doesn’t stop stepping forward, like deflection is getting easier and easier. Like as Ben keeps rising, so does she, and that’s all that matters.

Ben brings up his own hands to help her, but to his amazement, his own hands are glowing white, shimmering like the stars themselves. And the Force - the Force is running through his veins with such otherworldly power that he finds it is only instinct to let it flow through him and Rey, like they’re back in one of their Force bond moments, meditating in their respective corners of the galaxy but orbiting a single soul.

A pale blue glow starts emanating from either side of him and Rey, and he knows; there has never been a moment in his life that he has felt less alone than now.

A hand falls on his shoulder, neither tangible nor completely transparent, but he feels the weight of a thousand generations laid upon them.

 _“Ben,”_ says the owner of the hand - a prosthetic one no less, but his hair is mussed with timeless youth, secrets hidden beneath the helmet Ben had riddling with twisted promises for years. Now, Anakin Skywalker grins proudly at his grandson. _“Finish what I started.”_

* * *

It’s slipping.

Palpatine feels his soul _slipping._

It’s that wretched Solo boy. That damned Skywalker scum. He’s doing something to it, something unseen and unheard of for generations, even as long as he’d been alive. And Palpatine had been alive a fairly long time. He has witnessed many peculiar phenomena, but none so much as what splays before him now.

The boy says nothing, but as his eyes meet Palpatine’s own squinted ones, the Force _shifts_ to his bidding. Bursting out like a sun from his presence, a call to everyone who ever lived in it.

Sure enough, they begin to appear. People. Jedi. And to Palpatine’s disgust, the Skywalkers themselves. Outlined in the same luminous blue, faces solemn. Eyes burrowing into the soul Palpatine had stolen and beckoning it out with the Force, as one.

Among the recognised are Master Yoda, Aayla Secura, Master Mace Windu, Adi Gallia, Qui-Gon Jinn, Luminara Unduli, Obi Wan Kenobi. Luke Skywalker, drifting to stand with his last student. Even Anakin, his old apprentice, face shamelessly bared, places a hand on his grandson’s shoulder.

Immediately there is a surge in power, except it isn’t his. He attempts to rein his lightning back in, recalculate his plans or turn against Ben Solo instead, but the girl has locked on to his blasts so it is no longer clear which direction it goes. Though the purple light, she even dares to smirk at him. It’s something dark and dangerous, and Palpatine would have been pleased with this uncovered darkness if he were not trapped as he is now.

Ben Solo’s arms are now flexed out on either side of his body, palms glowing white like the annoying luminescence of the galaxy itself. His Force signature has never been more outrageously balanced than Palpatine had ever felt. As a result, a void has opened up behind him, in the form of what resembles massive wings, inside speckled with stars and round patterned portals that defy space and time itself. A world known as nothing more than an in-between. It is mystical, it is beautiful and it is impossible. Yet Palpatine feels his freshly stolen soul, his newly acquired strength, slipping out of his physical body and into the Solo boy’s winged void.

 _He has risen again,_ Palpatine thinks sourly to himself, but not without a splint of anguish. _The Skywalker has risen._

He should have taken into account the fact that Ben Solo is a living, breathing culmination of everyone who had ever defeated him before. Perhaps then it would not have posed a problem.

His soul is tugged further out, the Force latching on and taking most of his power with it so he can practically feel himself weakening, his hands are wrinkling to the bone and the skin of his face is beginning to rot away once more. His vision flickers. His body giving way to the brittleness of mortality.

Enraged and fuelled with nothing more than pure, spitting hatred, he angles his head towards where he knows Anakin Skywalker’s phantom is watching him waste away.

“You would stand by and let your own grandson kill your old Master?” Palpatine taunts at him. “You are more of a Sith than you know, Lord Vader.”

Anakin looks at him, regards him with a patience and pity that Palpatine had never known him to have possessed before. Useless, disappointing qualities that he must have picked up from his pathetic wife. But even in death, he remains redeemed.

 _“That’s not my name,”_ Anakin says. _“And you are not my Master.”_

At that exact moment, the last of his stolen soul leaves him. Palpatine screams, out of lost vengeance, his frailty returning with the final bout of his lightning blasts. For a dying second he thinks, there is still a possibility as long as he is physically present that he can steal yet another soul, the closest one he can find…

But his feverish gaze is caught by young Rey once again, and to his horror, she knows precisely what he’s thinking.

“You’re out of lives, Emperor,” she whispers above the crackle of lightning. _“Go to hell.”_

In a single, ripping stroke, she splits the X of her sabers.

Every last bolt of lightning shoots right back at him. And the last thing Sheev Palpatine remembers of this realm is a boy risen to light and a girl in control of her own darkness.

And then… silence.

For a while, at least.

* * *

Rey’s counter blast, or its impact, had sent a massive cloud of dust upon the whole arena. When Ben coughs enough sense back into himself, her name is the first word to grace his lips.

There is no reply.

“Rey,” Ben calls again, batting away at the pale grey smoke. “Rey!”

Then, a voice so quiet he nearly mistakes it for the crumbling of debris, “Ben?”

The dust cloud finally clears, and out of it, Ben makes out Rey’s shaky figure a mere few feet ahead of him. She turns around to face him the same time his lips draw into the beginnings of a smile. Disbelieving, awed and relieved all at once.

They’d done it. They’d really done it. The throne of the Sith lays singed and empty, the spiked stone chipped away as proof that the last of the Sith was finally vanquished.

As is the voice in his head. No Snoke. No Palpatine. No serpent. It feels as if some kind of fog had cleared in his mind too, every manipulation dissipating to grant him arrant freedom. For the first time in thirty years of his life.

All is quiet. All is at peace. And when his eyes meet Rey’s for the millionth time, it feels like the first all over again.

He can be happy. They can _both_ be happy.

Rey returns his smile, except with a slightly glazed look in her eye and an unusual dip in her Force presence. At first he thinks it’s a fluctuation in the general aura, since their showdown with Palpatine had been far out of the ordinary. But before Ben can figure out what it is, Rey takes one step towards him.

And collapses to the ground.

Just like that, every single one of Ben’s fears flood back into his heart, dousing him in an ice cold reality as he falls to the ground and sweeps her into his arms. Breathing hard and blatantly ignoring the pain that remains searing through his own body, he turns her around to face him. 

He has to stifle a gasp when he sees it - the blackening scar tissue from the lightning blasts had made its way from her hands to her neck through the veins, stark and scarily visible against her paling delicate skin. Ben traces it with trembling fingers, and then Rey opens her mouth as if to speak. She only lets out a soft breath, terrifyingly soft, like it’s barely there. Along with it, it seems, is what remains of her life force. It’s dimmed so much, Ben can feel the way it’s starting to leave a big, gaping hole at the other end of the bond. _Their_ bond. One is not complete or whole without the other.

“No,” Ben whispers, and this is a different kind of disbelief, one that eats away at every fibre of his being, gathering unstoppable tears in his eyes. “No, no, Rey, you have to heal. You have to heal yourself, come on.”

Rey’s eyelids are now fluttering dangerously at half-mast. Yet she keeps her eyes trained on him as best as she can, while reaching up with one blackened hand to caress her knuckles against the side of Ben’s jaw. A dying gesture.

“No, don’t—” Ben grabs her hand and presses multiple, desperate little kisses to it, even after it she loses the strength to hold it up any longer. “You did it for me before. You’re so strong, and I- please, sweetheart, I-” He chokes on a sob. “I can’t lose you too. I can’t.”

Rey says nothing, although she doesn’t look like she even could, so she wraps her little finger around Ben’s and _shows him._

It’s the last vision of a life Ben sees tonight.

_They spar together. She keeps tackling him to the ground and he keeps cheating. They sleep together. He keeps pressing kisses to the top of her head and she keeps pretending to be asleep just so he'll keep doing it. Eventually they explore the galaxy together, rescuing children who have been worn and beaten and left behind just as she was. They train a new generation of Force sensitives. He trains the darksiders while she trains the lightsiders, but their common subject is always balance. They are a species of Jedi that has not quite been named yet, but that’s okay, because they have learned that the unknown should be embraced instead of feared. Only time will tell. Their temple, a magnificent safe haven for all, resides in the middle of open green fields as far as the eye can see. The sun sinking low over the horizon, tainting the sky various hues of pink. The same shade as her cheeks as he picks her up and spins her around and kisses her soundly, now that he knows they can kiss whenever they want. Their laughs mingle in the healing evening breeze. A third laugh joins in, running on chubby legs to throw himself into his father’s waiting arms. He has his eyes, her hair and both their love. This life is new, it is intimate, and it is everything they have ever wanted._

It is also a life that will never come to pass.

The vision ends just as Rey’s hand goes limp. Ben slowly, slowly opens his eyes to find his face wet. And beneath him, where his tears have fallen softly onto her cheeks, her eyes are still open.

She has died with him as the last thing she will ever see.

The pain across the bond is astounding. It’s the worst he has felt tonight and possibly in his entire life. There’s a hole, a deep, dark pit in which the other end of their dyad lies severed in her place, and so there must be a hollow space within himself too. He has never felt so utterly alone. So hopelessly lost. Like the galaxy is too wide without her in it.

He spends a shell shocked moment to revel in the life she’d planned out for them. For _them._ She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. She wanted to have a son. _Their son._

And now that future is gone…

 _“It’s not gone,”_ a voice murmurs. Ben looks up through his tears and finds himself face to face with his grandfather. Of all the ghosts that had appeared to him, only Anakin remains, crouching over Rey’s body and watching her with a sorrow that has clearly seen this play out before. Across the generations, across the stars. _“I let my future go too easily. That won’t happen to you.”_

“It already has,” Ben’s throat runs dry as he struggles to say it. “She’s gone.”

 _“No, Ben,”_ Anakin insists. He gestures to Rey. _“As long as she’s here, you can still save her.”_

“How?” Ben rasps. “You couldn’t save Padme.”

His grief and deliriousness makes him only half aware that it wasn’t the most sensitive thing to say to his deceased grandfather, but Anakin simply sighs.

_“No, I couldn’t.”_

A wistful smile begins to form on his face, as he takes one of Ben’s hands and holds it out between them. Only then does Ben realise that his fingers are still glowing moon-white, dimmer than before but simmering with no less energy. It’s the last thing Anakin points out before he fades back into the Force.

_“But you’re not me.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise you i PROMISE that things will be FIXED okay just dONT GIVE UP ON ME I HAVE A PLAN
> 
> and if you're still feeling hella sad just remember what leia said - hope is like the sun, if you only believe in it when you can see it, you'll never make it through the night. have hope, my friends. the story is FAR from over.
> 
> also yes in case you were wondering, that is the world between worlds opening up behind ben like it does on the poster (you can see it in chapter one!!) rey smirking while beating palpatine's crusty ass is also on the poster lmao it feels good to write something that has been drawn visually 😌😌


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boy howdy look at that - it's the shortest chapter in the ENTIRE FIC whoidhsjhfdjkjhvcjs
> 
> so sorry i know the wait might not have been worth it for such a short chapter but to be fair there has been many things i have preoccupied myself with during the past 2 weeks. i know you guys must be seeing this EVERYWHERE so it'll be no surprise when i mention it here..... the black lives matter movement. i've been working (selling my books) to raise funds for the cause and most of my time has gone to educating myself on the situation in america. while i live halfway across the world, i really want to do the utmost i can to help, so i'll also start selling some prints soon, including some reylo and gingerpilot designs!! funds will go to black visions collective. if you guys are interested i'll link yall when its up!!
> 
> that said, if i have any black readers seeing this right now, i wanna let you know that i love you and i support you and i am with you in this fight for your justice, forever and always. your lives MATTER.
> 
> please stay safe everyone and i hope you enjoy whatever solace this chapter may be :'))

“Rise and shine, Chancellor.”

Sheev opens his eyes to space. The vast, silent, emptiness of space, dotted with the distant twinkle of stars. Countless paths of pure, white light, shine in contrast to the darkness all around, ever shifting, ever spiralling on and on into some kind of blissful eternity that he doesn’t understand. It looks like the world he’d seen through Ben Solo’s mystical wings, and he’s fairly certain the boy had somehow transported him there.

He’s lying flat on his back on a surface that seems to transcend all texture and temperature, his black robes pooling around him. He sits up, gingerly, trying to get his spinning mind to hone in on his surroundings. He could have sworn someone had spoken…

Or is he imagining things?

Is he dead?

The pain in his body is completely gone. He brings his hands up in front of his face to inspect them, and he almost gives himself a fright.

It’s the healthiest flesh he has ever seen in his life. (Or perhaps in this case, death as well.) All the wrinkles are gone. The skin has healed over bone and, as Sheev presses two fingers hard against his pulse point, he can feel the blood rushing through his veins.

So, no. _Dead_ is the last thing he feels.

Yet he’d felt his body crumble upon itself only moments ago, he’d felt his own lightning hit and kill every last nerve in his fingertips. This has to be some sort of trick.

“It’s not a trick,” says someone from behind him.

As Sheev hoists himself to his feet, the person walks around him to properly face him, with a gait as regal as royalty. She’s shorter than Sheev remembers, hands clasped politely behind her back but her face pulled into a taut, piercing expression. Her hair cascades down both shoulders in neat, brown corkscrew curls, her dress the same midnight blue as the night of her funeral.

“Padmé,” Sheev breathes.

“That’s _Senator Amidala_ to you.” Padmé lifts an eyebrow. “It seems age has diminished your manners, Chancellor. How long have you lived?”

Something compels him to say the truth, perhaps the strange, scattered influence of this place. “Over a hundred years now.”

Padmé purses her lips. “Far too long for your own good.”

“Where am I? I can’t feel the Force.”

“That’s because you’ve never felt the Force, you’ve only lived on one side of it.” Padmé turns gracefully, and starts walking down the invisible lined path, each footstep leaving a ripple of white in its wake. “Even in a hundred years, you haven’t figured that out.”

Sheev gathers himself enough to follow her, and he feels a bit of his old political spitfire returns.

“Come now,” he chides. “From one Nabooian to another, I only ever wanted the best for our homeworld by any means.”

Padmé smiles sportingly. “My dear Chancellor, ‘by any means’ came at the cost of the whole galaxy, now I wonder why that didn’t work.”

“Have you come here to fight me then?”

“No,” Padmé says. “Anakin was supposed to be the one to meet you, but he was going to put your spirit into the body of his younger self when he was burning on the lava shores of Mustafar.”

Just like that, his half-hearted amiability vanishes on the spot. “You think you’re granting me mercy? You were nothing but a weakness to Lord Vader.” 

Padmé stops and finally turns to face him, a rivalling flame in her own eyes that he had never seen in the hundred years of his life.

“I never knew being such a lowly weakness would pose such a threat to your plans with my husband, to the point where you felt the need to murder me.”

“You died from your own pathetic will.”

When Padmé smiles again it’s an icy, sarcastic gesture, a clear signature of the Skywalkers. “Are we still denying it, then?”

“I don’t see why any of it matters,” says Sheev curtly. “It was a long time ago.”

“Yes it was.” The senator narrows her eyes. “Which also makes it one of the first crimes you committed against my family, and ultimately, why you ended up here.”

“I have died before.”

“You’re not dead, Chancellor,” Padmé says airily. “Just helpless.”

She sweeps off, towards a portal up ahead, branching off the path that they’re currently walking on.

“Oh, I see.” Sheev muses, approaching her again like a loth cat about to pounce. “The Solo boy, your grandson, has kindly spared my life and confined me to this world. How very compassionate.”

Padmé is unfazed. She doesn’t even look at him. Instead she stops again in front of the portal and snaps her fingers. “It runs in the family.”

The rim of the portal, which had been glowing delicately and idly spinning with ancient runes of mythical Force-sensitive beasts, suddenly frames a pale blue landscape within. At its centre is a blotch of colour, one dressed in white and the other in black.

Sheev squints through the blurry moving image at first - it looks almost exactly like a hologram, until he realises the landscape of what he’s seeing is the bruise-blue tinted Exegol arena, flashing and glitching from lightning rather than technological influence, and that the two people he’s watching are Ben Solo and Rey.

She is in his arms while he weeps over her body. She is limp and cold, felt even through the filter of the portal, and he is harbouring a sadness that could devastate every rock and mountain in the galaxy.

It fills Sheev with an all-consuming celebratory joy.

So he’d finally gotten his revenge. After everything his final mission was complete. Make the last of the Skywalkers suffer for eternity. The best part, he thinks, as he peers eagerly through the portal, is that he gets to watch it happen.

Padmé, on the other hand, holds her head high. At first Sheev is too overcome with crazed triumph to wonder why she isn’t sorrowed to see her last living descendant cry himself a river. And then she casts him a look and a warning all at once, that Sheev can almost hear it echo in his head.

_Look closer._

Unbidden, he looks closer, and he notices the Solo boy’s hands are still glowing white from the moment he’d defeated him earlier, glowing the same white glow as the portals and pathways and starlight all around. 

_Listen closer._

He listens closer, and he hears the faint whisper of _be with me,_ and _take my hand_ and every possible expression of _I love you_ written in transcendent strokes of Ben Solo’s life Force, directed, poured, without a second thought into the empty glass of Rey’s unblinking eyes.

_Open yourself to the Force and feel it._

He doesn’t have to open himself to the Force, nor does he have a choice. The Force opens itself up to him, light and darkness gushing out and drowning him in waves of energy. It speaks through the way Ben Solo harnesses it, at the very height of its power for the first time in generations, as the boy presses his glowing fingers to Rey’s stomach and closes his eyes.

* * *

**_Cold_** _like the way your body no longer flips me whenever I pin you in a duel, like the way your heart no longer beats in tandem with mine. **Warmth** of what breath I have left in me, of the blood that still runs through my veins, the blood of your friends fighting with you in the sky. **Violence** of the war that we just ended, violence of my affections for you, how I’d kill and die for you, I always have. **Peace** of the future you imagined for us, peace of my mind for the first time in my life, peace for our children, I promise, if you just _wake up _._

**_Darkness_ ** _of the gaping hole within my soul that you left behind. **Light** of my life - that’s you, Rey. It’s always been you. I told you I’d come back for you, sweetheart, but now I need you to come back for me._

_Please…_

The galaxy seems to swirl, with Ben Solo and Rey of Jakku at its very centre. Each moment, each memory the Force has ever connected them materialises into a lightning bolt, prickling the Exegol grounds like a call to revival. The noise, the power, everything draws itself into a peak and then… stops.

Time stops. Breath stops. Orbital cycles in every solar system all drifts to a halt for the briefest second as Ben opens his eyes.

Colour drains back into Rey’s face.

* * *

Sheev clenches his fist. He’d been so close, _so close._ He’d even gotten a front row seat to watch the aftermath of trauma like it was a day at the Coruscant Opera. Yet the boy was more powerful than he had ever expected, due to his frolicking weakness of love and compassion.

Runs in the family, indeed.

He turns on Padmé, only to find her already glaring coolly up at him. 

“You asked me what this place is - we are in a world between it all. Peace and war. Light and darkness. Life and death. It’s balance.” Padmé leans in, with no small amount of emphasis in her voice. “And the only way to get out is to _understand_ it.”

“You—”

In a bout of uncontrollable anger, Sheev lashes out, aiming a slap towards the senator’s face. But his blow passes right through her annoyingly serene expression, as if she isn’t there at all.

“You think this world can hold me?” he hisses. “I have my ways. I will escape, and I will haunt you and your family for the rest of their lives. This isn’t the end.”

“No,” Padmé says. “This is just the beginning. You have an eternity ahead of you, and we have something you gave up the minute you laid a finger on my family.”

“What would that be, Senator?”

Padmé gives him one last fetching grin, just as her midnight-gowned body fades back into the heavens of the Force, as Sheev’s spirits sink lower and lower into an oblivion he has never known, and as Rey of Jakku takes the first breath of her second life.

_“Liberty.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall can come find me @shruggyben on tumblr and @cosmicowlcosplay on ig!!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gUESS WHO'S BACK LADS,,, tis i, your clown of a writer who has not touched the doc of this fic for more than a month BUT HEY IM HERE NOW and i have both good news and bad news for you all my amazing loyal readers
> 
> the good news is, i have a week off of school so that definitely means i'm free to write more! i aim to write the next 2 chapters at least,, by the end of the week so i won't have to rush and i have time to procrastinate hehe
> 
> the bad news is, as you may or may not have noticed, i officially have a final chapter count.
> 
> but yes, the last chapter will be chapter 31, and then i'm going to post the prologue to tsarito (basically the scene with kylo on mustafar with the oracle) and then a week later i'll post the epilogue :)) AND THEN THATS IT THATS THE END OF A STORY IVE BEEN WORKING ON SINCE CHRISTMAS 2019 HFJDHGFDHJS its officially the longest story i have ever been dedicated to writing and it's going to hurt me so much to say goodbye. I'LL LEAVE THE EXTRA SAPPY STUFF TO WHEN I ACTUALLY POST THE EPILOGUE BUT RIGHT NOW - REYLOS REJOICE, BEN SOLO STANS REJOICE, THIS IS THE MOMENT YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR
> 
> *THOMAS JEFFERSON VOICE* HIGHLIGHTS:  
> \- THEY FINALLY KITH,,,,,  
> \- tai and voe meet rey for the first time  
> \- my fellow gays,,, come get yalls juice (rose x jannah edition)

Ben doesn’t want to open his eyes.

The glow of his fingers, that had shone through the crack of his eyelids as he murmured every healing mantra he knew, as he channelled as much of the Force as he possibly could, had finally gone out.

All is dark once more.

And he’s terrified the world will remain as dark, and as cold, if he opens his eyes. It’ll be reality, if this didn’t work, one that Rey would never be a part of ever again.

He’s shaking too hard and too feverishly to tell whether the temperature of her body has warmed, or whether the muscles in her back heaves with renewed breath beneath his palm. Ben’s other hand lies on her belly, fingers woven through the folds of her tunic like it was woven through shadows cast by firelight on an island, tender and gentle as he always is for her, splayed wide open for her to take.

And then, for the first time since every proposal he had ever made her… _she does._

By some miracle, or by fate or by the Force itself.

The warmth of her touch lands, her thumb hooking under his palm, and Ben’s eyes fly open.

The first thing he notices is that his head is spinning. His vision can barely centre itself on a single point. Of all the energy he’d exerted, he can feel the remainders of it teetering on the edge of his consciousness, held back by a wall of his own sheer will to see her, to make sure she’s truly alive.

The next thing he notices, when his vision returns somewhat to normal, is that the charred black consequences of their showdown with Palpatine have vanished from Rey’s hands and neck. Her eyes have blinked all their stars and light and _love_ back into themselves. As she pushes herself upright in his lap, she is the single most radiant thing Ben has ever felt. The hollow ravine in his soul fills right back up, the thread of their bond reigniting, and it feels like meeting her for the first time all over again.

“Ben.” His name falls hushed but joyous from her lips. She steals his breath away, regardless of which lifetime they ever live.

It’s a new beginning. A soft beginning.

This time it does not start with an abduction, a murder instantly regretted, or a saber fight on a crumbling planet.

This time, it starts as Rey caresses his face, eyes darting down to his lips, and kisses him.

* * *

Rey opens up to him, along with what seems to be her very soul, their tongues and their thoughts brushing, so whenever she hastens the kiss in fears of her time running out all over again, Ben slows her down, his breath fanning out across her face in a contented exhale, as if to say, _take your time, sweetheart, we have time._ And she believes him.

The bond sings for their reunion, it feels like a promise, a future, a home. The one she’d always wanted. The one from her dreams. One that will last.

Ben’s eyes flutter open, eyes roaming and dazed for a moment as if he can’t quite believe he isn’t dreaming (Rey almost feels the same. After all, it’s been less than a minute since she had literally risen from the airless void of death). But then Ben lets out a soft laugh, his face breaking into the biggest, crookedest, _happiest_ smile Rey has ever seen, and her heart somersaults into oblivion. It’s not like one of his coy smirks of playful grins that she’d glimpsed during their spars or heated arguments. This one is raw and innocent and gloriously dimpled, so her hand immediately flies up to trace it, indenting the corner of his lips.

When Ben speaks, his voice comes out in a deep, rumbling whisper. A single word, painfully soft and fraying at the edges. “Stay…”

Then his weight plummets against her arms. His eyes fall shut again, and Rey instinctively throws her arm round the back of his neck so his head hits the ground with only a soft thud.

The fear sets in like a tide against a shore, growing and growing alongside the brewing storm of panic inside her.

“Ben? Ben!” She shakes him frantically by the shoulders, lightly patting his cheek.

No response.

Rey reaches for the thread of their bond once more, and solace erupts through her when she feels him, his soul, flickering weakly at the other end.

He’s still here. He’s still _alive._

There’s a distant rumble from another part of the temple, like the sound of a massive structure being brought down, and Rey’s scavenger instincts kick in immediately. This isn’t over.

Back on Jakku, she recalls, treasuring and protecting her findings was high on her list of survival. She would shield whatever parts she’d found for the day with her body, through sandstorms and snivelling thieves while fighting them off.

Right now, as the sounds of the crumbling temple grow closer and closer, Rey looks down at the most valuable treasure she would ever need to protect, the cogs in her body getting back to work. For the first time in her second life.

“Don’t you worry.” She brushes strands of his hair away from his face and then slinging his arm tight over her shoulders. “I’ll get us home.”

* * *

Tai doesn’t know how long it’s been since Ben had run into the Emperor’s waiting bait trap.

He’d counted, under his breath, as long as five minutes, when the sky erupted in a spiel of lightning, ensnaring all the ally ships with buzzing dark energy. Voe had to hold him back and shout at him for the _next_ five minutes to convince him from charging into the throne room himself. They’d spent the rest of their time trussing up the two Knights - Kuruk and a stinky, goop-covered Vicrul - tying their unconscious bodies back to back against the landing gear of the Jedi’s slim pipe of a ship.

(Tai hopes she won’t mind. She and Ben can decide their fate when they return. If they return.)

Since then, he could only hope beyond hope that the power of a dyad was able to outmatch a literal thunderstorm of a Sith Lord.

When Tai and Voe return inside, Tai is too busy fidgeting with his armour and carving tally marks into his helmet to notice that the atmosphere had gone deathly quiet, albeit the bombings and explosions from above.

“Tai,” Voe nudges him, her breath hitching. “Can you feel that?”

“What?” The moment the word leaves his lips, he feels it. A devastating rupture in the Force all around, like an ocean parting for one half of it to drain away into the abyss, the same time the Dark presence of what must have been the Emperor implodes and fades from their senses.

 _He must be defeated,_ Tai deduces, and then with a lot less conviction, _He must’ve taken one of them with him..._

“Kriff,” Voe swears, and they move in unison, picking up their weapons and racing towards the entrance of the throne room.

On the way, there’s a deafening crash of what sounds like stone pillars collapsing, and the ground beneath them vibrates hard with the impact. The temple is falling apart. The two Knights exchange a look and pick up their pace.

As they approach the throne room however, to Tai’s bewilderment, the cavernous hole in the Force abruptly begins filling up again, the other half of its missing ocean flowing back, first in streams, then rivers, then lakes and lakes of water returning to its home.

The restored half is shining bright by the time they near the entrance, and Tai already has an idea of what he’s about to see, even before it trudges out of the arena.

A second later, they catch sight of Rey, dragging the enormous (thankfully still-breathing) figure of Ben Solo out of the throne room on her back. It’s almost comical, especially the fact that Tai had been in the exact same situation before, in Skywalker’s academy. Ben Solo, always off doing something stupid and getting himself knocked soundly out. Breaking people’s backs since 20 ABY.

Even Voe snorts a little as they jog up to the struggling Jedi.

“Hey!”

Rey whips around and ignites her saber at them.

“Get back!” she snarls.

“What happened to Ben?” Tai asks, stepping closer, but Rey aims a swing at him.

“I said, get back!”

“Hey, easy, we just wanna help.” Voe raises her hands slowly on either side of her head, but it doesn’t help that she’s still holding her twin blades in each fist. “I mean, you look like you need it, Jedi.”

“I’m not a Jedi.” Rey points her saber at them, keeping them at a safe, suspicious distance while supporting Ben with one arm alone. Voe isn’t wrong, Tai notices. One of Rey’s shoulders is already starting to tremble under Ben’s weight.

“Why were you trying to kill him before?” Rey asks them, and it’s a furious but genuine question.

“The rest of our brothers were trying to kill him, not us,” Tai explains as patiently as he can. “They were under the Emperor’s orders. We helped Ben get to you.”

Voe nods. “We’re his friends.”

Rey turns to look at her with an expression so strange Tai can’t help but do the same.

“ _Friends?_ ” he mumbles skeptically at Voe.

She looks surprised. “What?”

“Do you really think she’s going to believe Ben, the ex-Jedi Killer, has _friends_ — _”_

“Hey, alright!” Rey shrills, like she’s offended. She extinguishes her saber and hooks it back to her belt, letting Ben’s weight fall gently to the floor. “Why didn’t you just say so before?”

Voe shoots Tai her annoyingly signature _you know I’m always right_ expression, sheathing her weapons. As they move in to hoist Ben on their shoulders, Tai lays two gloved fingers tentatively against Ben’s forehead, sensing the once radiant Force energy inside him dulled into a coma-like state.

“Is he alive?”

“I wouldn’t be here right now if he wasn’t,” Rey says quietly, and her brow furrows like she’s recalling something very personal.

She must be, Tai thinks. In his own way, he understands. “Oh, right. Your dyad.”

“Our dyad,” Rey repeats, and then shudders. “I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for him when I—”

“Excuse me!” Voe yells, her hands tightening around the ankles of Ben’s boots. “Are we saving this oversized man or are we just gonna sit around and die with him?”

For extra measure, another one of the temple’s structures, what seems to be a giant stone version of Palpatine himself, crumbles to the ground not far away. The ceiling follows.

It’s admittedly graceful how Rey can snap from an emotional demeanor into immediate action. She retreats so that she’s behind where Tai and Voe are carrying Ben.

“Keep moving,” she says, as the Force swirls and sparks around her. “I’ll clear the way.”

* * *

Everything is going perfectly, or at least a lot better than Finn had expected. To be fair, he had more hope than expectations, but those were two very different things, so when they’d marched into the lead ship and made a speech and charged right out of there with a fiery revolution at their back, it felt like a damn fever dream.

They’d taken down the control tower in moments, with their numbers having increased tenfold, the Resistance and ally ships firing relentlessly at the Sith Fleet, now going down in the hundreds from exploding weaponry, malfunctioning engines and signal loss.

Finn herds their newfound ground force allies, his newfound brothers and sisters, into the Resistance transports that had come to pick them up, some of them limping, others cheering. Their job was done.

So yes, Finn thinks, everything is going perfectly. Besides the fact that Hux has not stopped muttering “I can’t believe I did that, I can’t believe I did that,” to himself again and again for the past hour or so, no matter how many Sith Troopers he’d shot or stabbed.

(Finn also knows better than anything - _“that”_ isn’t referring to the shooting or the stabbing, but instead the unexpected confession the ex-general had made in front of approximately the whole First Order. But who can blame him? Finn is rather traumatised himself.)

The Falcon arrives to retrieve them, Lando and Chewie waving from the cockpit, and Han’s dice had mysteriously reappeared to dangle from the hook above the viewport. Hux stumbles up the lowered ramp without question, but Finn’s head count instantly falls short. Panicking, he turns around to find Jannah a short distance away, trudging through the crossfire as if she’s looking around for something.

“Jannah!” Finn screams. “What the hell are you doing? We gotta go!”

“No!” Her voice is faint and broken over the sounds of blasters and armour hitting the deck. “I’m not leaving without Aden! I said I’d come back for him!”

“Jannah, we don’t have time—”

But Jannah skids past a few more troopers and vanishes around a corner of the deck. At the same time, Rose appears, running from the opposite direction with Jannah’s orbak’s reins in hand.

“Why aren’t we leaving?” Rose calls to him over the din. She glances around. “Where’s Jannah?”

“That’s why we can’t leave,” Finn says weakly, and gestures towards the dying crossfire where Jannah had left.

Rose turns around again, the same time the last of the blasterfire ceases and the entire Destroyer starts to tip downwards.

* * *

Rose ignores Finn’s outcries of protest as she storms across the tilting deck both her and the orbak wobbling on their feet as the angle grows slowly steeper.

“Jannah!” She feels herself shouting her throat out. “Jannah, where are you? We need to go!”

She rounds a corner, away from where the Falcon had docked, and she almost gets shot in the eye if she hadn’t ducked away in the nick of time.

There’s a final bit of fighting on this end of the ship. Some of Jannah’s surviving riders and the newly recruited troopers had teamed up against the remaining Sith Troopers, but all of them are tripping with the nosediving ship so no one can really aim a blaster straight. Most of the fighters are heading towards the last two transports, docked and anxiously waiting, far opposite where Rose is.

There’s a hoarse scream from a higher deck, and when Rose looks up to its source, her blood runs cold.

As the Destroyer continues tipping, Jannah hangs above the fray, from a dias-turned-ledge with just one hand. The ship gives another violent jerk, but Rose can see Jannah gritting her teeth and hanging on even tighter, as if she’s in denial of her own fingers slipping.

Without quite thinking, Rose swings herself onto the orbak’s saddle. Fathier riding instincts return to her in a year-long echo. With a _hyah!_ and a squeeze of her heels, she sends the animal off into a speedy gallop towards where Jannah is stubbornly clinging to the ledge.

The Destroyer gives one last pained jolt and creaks like a wounded animal, Jannah is thrown off the ledge. She free-falls down towards the main deck with a sharp gasp, and Rose’s stomach free-falls with her as she urges the orbak to go faster, thin cold air skimming across her bare face, hooves thundering into her very soul, the speed she’s going nearly undoing the bun at the base of her skull as she rides towards where Jannah’s flailing body is sure to land…

The motion of the rescue is as quick as a leaf in the wind. There’s a blur. A warm weight slamming into her back. A breathy _“oof”_ against her ear. And then strong, shaky arms instinctually come up to wrap themselves around her waist.

“Rose?” Jannah pants disbelievingly.

“Hi,” says Rose. She turns to raise an eyebrow at her. “Who’s the princess now?”

Jannah says nothing, but lets out something between a laugh and a scoff, then buries her face in Rose’s shoulder.

As they ride through the field of fallen bodies and blasters and armour, Rose is very much aware of how Jannah’s fellow riders are fixing them with a curious look as they trot aside them.

They make it safely into one of the last transports. Jannah helps Rose silently off the orbak with their hands tightly clasped.

For a moment she looks as if she wants to say something, so the two of them stand there, as the transport begins to rise, Rose more or less _losing herself_ in Jannah’s hesitating gaze and the reassuring thrum of the ship engine around them drowning out every other thought. Jannah’s mouth opens, and then shuts again. Instead she reaches out with a trembling arm to tuck a flyaway lock of Rose’s hair behind her ear, just like she did on Kef Bir.

But she lets her fingers linger just a little longer against the skin of her cheek, lets the softest and quickest of “ _thank you”_ s slip past her lips, before she’s pulling away and squeezing through the crowded transport into the cockpit. No doubt to comm Finn about their whereabouts.

Rose’s face has grown terribly warm, but she sucks in a breath, fixes her hair and blames it all on adrenaline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didnt particularly like editing this chapter hfdjfdj i hope my writing wasnt too draggy and convoluted ahhh
> 
> feel free to yell at me @shruggyben on tumblr and twitter or @cosmicowlcosplay on ig hehe


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS 2AM AND IM HIGH WHJDHSJKHFDJSK
> 
> 4 chapters left to go. you have no idea the things ive done to keep myself motivated.
> 
> highlights of tonight:  
> \- PROTECTIVE MAMA LEIA  
> \- PROTECTIVE GF REY  
> \- tai is very very gay. he is all of us, yearning  
> \- hux is also very gay, and he is 100% done with the str8s

They’re running through yet another narrow, skeletal hallway, and Rey has tossed the fifth piece of falling debris away from Tai, Voe and Ben with the Force, when Tai pops the question.

“What happened in there?”

Rey’s mind takes a little too long to compute it. “In where?”

“In the throne room,” Tai clarifies, straining slightly as he adjusts his grip on Ben’s upper torso. “With Palpatine.”

“I, er,” Rey huffs, as they sprint past more and more bacta tanks and all kinds of cloning machinery. “I don’t really know… we fought Palpatine, Ben opened up a gateway to another world—”

Voe splutters, “He what?”

“And then I sort of died—”

“You _died?”_

“He brought me back, I saw his face, I kissed him, and then—”

Tai’s footsteps patter to a halt, and Rey runs straight into him.

“Wait, _you_ kissed _him?”_

Rey glowers up at him. “I loved him for a year, it’s not my fault he only started making good decisions now. I was _repressed!”_

Tai looks back and forth from Ben’s limp form to Rey, his face contorted as if he’s trying to figure out a puzzle. Voe on the other hand, has the untimely audacity to look smug.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” she feigns what sounds like academic curiosity. She gestures at Ben. “Did you do it wrong, or—”

“How would I know?” Rey snaps at her, blushing furiously. “I’ve never kissed anyone before!” Then she hesitates, leaning towards Tai, eyes widening with worry. “Is it normal for something like this to happen?”

“For someone to faint after being kissed?” Tai, on the other hand, looks thoroughly amused at her question. “Not to everyone, but I wouldn’t put it past Ben.”

Rey watches Ben’s face in muted but increasing horror. What if it really was her fault? What if she'd somehow absorbed some of his life Force with every subtle movement of her lips? What if—

"Hey, Not-A-Jedi!” Voe’s voice siphons her out of her worried daze. “You might wanna see this!"

She points up towards where the ceiling of the temple had long since broken apart, to reveal the largest flagship in the Sith Fleet in the sky. Except it’s not going to be in the sky much longer - its massive nose accompanies flaming, falling debris, dipping downwards right towards them.

Rey races in front of where Ben is being hoisted between the two Knights, shielding them, raising one arm towards the sinking Destroyer in the sky and channeling as much of the Force as she can to push against it.

But the ship doesn’t stop sinking.

"Stop!” Voe cries from behind her. There’s a scuffle. “Tai, what are you—”

Before Rey can register it, Tai appears beside her and positions his arm towards the Destroyer alongside hers, his jaw set and eyes focused. There’s a tremor in the Force, their combined strength suddenly alleviating a little bit of the pressure. The helm of the ship lets out a rumbling creak. At first Rey thinks it’s working.

Then thrusters sputter. And completely dies.

The Destroyer gives a final creak, it starts falling again. Rey feels her grip and Tai’s slip out of control.

"Tai!” Voe is still yelling, frantic and slightly out of her mind. “Are you stupid? It won’t work!"

 _No, no, no, no, no,_ Rey thinks, both hands raised now, but even as Tai grunts under their combined efforts, even as Rey feels her own life Force trembling under the strain to keep the Destroyer in the air, gravity isn’t playing a fair game.

She’s too tired, there’s too many Force signatures swamping and suffocating her, her body still struggling hard to restore any semblance of temperature. She can barely focus on whatever sensation pricks at her fingertips. Every moment she pushes up against the falling ship steals a precious breath from her lungs.

_No, no, no._

If she loses herself now, Ben’s sacrifice would have been for nothing.

 _"Stop it!"_ Voe’s voice breaks, and so does Rey’s hold on the Destroyer. She snaps her arms away and stumbles back, blood pulsing in her ears. When she whips around, the look on Voe’s face is piteous.

Rey glances towards Ben, where his body is laying across the barren dust of the temple floor. His features remain peaceful, childlike and innocent even, as the shadow of the massive ship looms overhead and casts itself over them. An angry, growling sob rips from Rey’s throat, and she doesn’t know if it’s out of desperation or the fact that she’d been right to worry about their time running out again. That ten seconds of pure bliss would never be enough to make up for an entire future.

She’s about to go right back to shoving against the oversized Destroyer with renewed, rabid determination—

When Ben’s Force signature spikes, and his lips fall open to utter a single word.

“Mom.”

* * *

The captain of the Tantive VI is already preparing the jump to hyperspace when Leia feels him.

A tug on a string of her own Force presence, a connection untouched for decades until now. One she had been longing, waiting decades for, until now.

Leia’s lips fall open in a soft intake of breath.

_Mom._

_I need you, Mom._

_You’re my only hope._

“Ben…” she whispers, underneath the cheering, chattering crowd of rebels among her. They are halfway to popping bottles of Corellian whiskey.

And just like that, it all feels wrong.

Leia doesn’t hesitate any more. Her instincts are that of a mother’s, as she picks up her skirts and strides towards where the captain is seated. 

“If I may,” she asks, and she doesn’t phrase it as a question.

The poor captain blinks at her. “General, what—”

“I’m afraid there’s no time to explain,” Leia interrupts curtly and motions him off his seat.

The captain hastily removes himself and Leia slips in after him. The minute she grabs the controls, the entire ship is at her attention.

“General!” Connix cries as Leia careens the ship around. “Where are we going? We should be heading back to base by now!”

“Tell the rest of the fleet to go ahead.” Leia maneuvers the Tantive past a hurricane of raining sparks and mid-air explosions. She flies like she’s finally free, free to follow that little ball of light, of hope, that’s always been in the very core of her heart. “I am not leaving this cursed planet without my son.”

* * *

“Is this a Force thing?” Connix asks, slightly exasperated, as the ship banks sharply to the left and everyone on the bridge slides to hit the nearest right surface with a chorus of shouts.

“No,” Maz smiles. She turns towards the General, where her figure is cast against the light of explosions and lightning, jaw set and eyes narrowed in a way that reminds Maz of a certain smuggler. “It’s family.”

* * *

One minute the Tantive is rattling across the illuminated landscape of Exegol, the next the viewport is hurtling towards where the lead Destroyer of the Sith fleet is doing a spectacular nosedive towards Palpatine’s crumbling temple.

_There._

Without thinking, Leia throws the Tantive between the Destroyer and the ruins of the temple, where the flickering presence of her son lies within. She brings the ship to a halt so she’s facing upwards, facing the falling hull of the Destroyer.

Connix staggers to her side and Leia can see her eyes widening in the reflection of the viewport. “General! We can't—”

“Everyone, hang on!” Leia calls out, and her last thought before she slams the controls forward is that nothing will _ever_ take Ben from her again.

The Tantive shoots forward without warning. The whole bridge screams, hanging on for dear life. The nose of the Tantive buries itself into the base of the Destroyer with a deafening crash and a violent jerk. Leia flicks at a few switches, carefully increasing the thruster power.

Thirty percent. Fifty percent. Eighty percent.

Lifted by the nose of the Tantive _,_ the Destroyer gradually tips upwards and away from the ground in a neat arc. Leia grits her teeth and keeps pushing.

Ninety percent. Full power.

The fuel cells blink crimson in a warning on the dashboard but Leia ignores it. Until the Destroyer begins falling backwards, upside down, like the page of a book being flipped, finally out of range of the temple.

Only then does Leia reverse the thrusters. With one final screech, metal against metal, she dislodges from the downed ship before it can drag them along with it.

She’s about to descend towards the temple ruins that are still fragmenting, to scour the area for any signs of life, so maybe, maybe she can see Ben in the next few minutes, to know he’s okay—

The frequency beeps from the control panel before her and then Lando’s voice speaks, “You’re not gonna make it.”

Leia scowls. “Trust me, I’m fast.”

“Not as fast as this ship,” And of course, the Falcon swoops right past her in line with the viewport, at what looks like breakneck speed towards the surface of Exegol. “You got a whole command centre in there, I don’t think they’ll react nicely if you—”

“Lando,” Leia says, in the most genuine, I’m-not-kriffing-around tone she can muster. She takes a deep breath. “You bring my son back to me in _one piece,_ you hear me?”

“Easy, princess, I was the one who brought him here in the first place.”

“And you blatantly refused to tell me until I heard his voice through the comms, yes.”

“Admit it,” There’s a smirk in Lando’s voice now. “You always loved the Solo dramatics.”

“I’m gonna to kill you,” Leia says sweetly.

“Then who’s gonna bring Ben home for you—”

“In _one piece,_ ” Leia grates out again. Her voice wavers, “I want to see him.”

The frequency crackles with a static silence. And then, “I know.”

Leia watches the Falcon disappear into the soft, blue tinted distance of Exegol’s ground, before she resets the jump to hyperspace. She hoists herself off the pilot’s seat.

“Thank you,” she tells the bewildered captain, while the rest of the bridge pick themselves up from the floor and peel themselves off holographic screens and tables. “Please take us back to base.”

* * *

The Destroyer above them creaks like a creature of old, and suddenly its shadow is lifted like a sun rising out of a horizon.

Rey looks up from where she has Ben’s head cradled in her lap, squinting her eyes against the crackling of lightning now exposed in the open ceiling above them.

The flare of Ben’s Force signature dwindles back to a low, thrumming presence, and another seems to drift over him like a blanket, warm and reassuring. Rey could have recognised it anywhere, especially now as it fluctuates wildly with a similar determination to save and protect the man in her arms.

_Leia._

She gives Ben a small smile, even though he can’t see her. He has a whole family waiting for him. He always had.

“Rey…” She feels Tai’s hand on her shoulder. A question and a reminder all the same.

“Yeah,” Rey gets up. “Let’s go.”

They make it out of the temple just before the last of its pillars comes crashing down behind them. They’re stumbling out into the open ground, and then there’s a blinding beam of light racing towards them from above. A whoosh, a mighty buzz of an engine, and then the Millennium Falcon is hovering before them, ramp descending.

From it, Chewie emerges with a roar of concern, as soon as he catches sight of Ben’s limp body.

“He’s alright, he’s alive!” Rey shouts back, over the sound of the Falcon, and that in itself feels like a comfort. Even more so to see Chewie carefully scooping his nephew from the Knights.

She hurries up the ramp, and she’s halfway up when Voe calls to her. “Hey, Not-A-Jedi! You forgot something.”

When she turns, her own little makeshift bag, the one she’d put together on Jakku, comes flying at her. Rey looks up, stunned, to find Voe and Tai standing right where she’d left them.

Chewie stops too, turning to face them with a questioning warble and Ben still draped in his arms.

“Raided your little ship,” Voe goes on, nodding towards where the NO-1 is docked in the pale dirt a small distance away. “Without this there might be space for two and two hostages, if you don't mind. Not like it matters, we’re taking it anyway.”

The realisation hits Rey, hard and fast, like a sinking stone in the pit of her stomach. “You're not coming with us.”

Tai looks away, a little mournfully.

Rey takes a step towards them. Pleading almost, with a drive she didn’t know she had, nor is sure is entirely hers. “Ben would want to see you again.”

Voe shakes her head. “We followed him when Skywalker's temple fell because we thought there was another way, a freer way to use the Force. We can feel it and control it but... it’s too much. We just...” She looks over at Tai. “We never really wanted to be Jedi.”

“Neither did Ben,” Rey points out.

“That’s not the point!” Voe says, visibly frustrated. “Don’t you get it? No matter what you, or Ben, or any of us want, if we go with you, we’re still not safe from the laws of the New Republic. We’re gonna be tried, and locked up, and then we’ll have to drink that awful prison beer for the rest of our lives.”

“They can’t do that,” Rey says stubbornly. “I won’t let it happen—"

“Rey,” Tai says, stepping forward and laying a hand on her shoulder. The look in his eyes is faraway but no less forthcoming. “We might not have been the most brutal of the Knights, but we are still Knights.”

“But—”

“I'm sorry.” Tai gives her a gentle smile. “We saved Ben's life. He’s safe now, his royalty will protect him, and I know you will too. So the least you could do is let us go.”

Rey pauses. Takes a breath, to unlodge her throat that had tightened on its own accord. “Where will you go?”

“Anywhere nice, lush,” Tai shrugs. “Full of bounties.”

“Maybe we can join a Mandalorian guild.” Voe barks a laugh, cuffing Tai on the back of the head. “Still a big fan of helmets.”

Rey sighs. She’d be lying if she didn’t want to get to know the two better, even if they’d teased Ben for having no friends. He _needed_ friends. And so did she. But maybe being a good one started with letting them go.

Rey looks at them, gives them the tiniest of nods. “Thank you for helping me.” Then she looks over at Ben and Chewie and corrects, “Us.”

Voe’s posture slackens slightly, for the first time. “You take care of that idiot, Rey.”

By the time Rey notices it’s also the first time the Knight has called her by her name, Voe’s already jogging away, towards the NO-1. There’s a pressure on her wrist and then Tai is frowning at her in a way that seems to hold all the longing in the universe, as if he’s unsure of how to express it.

“Tell Ben…” he says eventually, in a voice so quiet that only she can hear. “Tell Ben I missed him.”

“I will,” Rey promises, and grips Tai’s hand where it encircles her wrist. “We’ll see each other again.”

Now, even when Tai finally retreats, as the two Knights cram themselves and their two hostages into the humble abode of the NO-1 and weave through the exploding sky, tainting Exegol’s blue tones with warm bursts of colour, this goodbye is a lot less bittersweet.

There may be hope for them yet.

* * *

Hux isn’t sure what to think, as the Wookiee comes back on board with the Supreme Leader in his arms. He’s had a pretty messed up day, all things considered. (All things, considering the fact that he’d just confessed his bloody feelings for Dameron a few hours earlier. Had Dameron heard the transmission? How would he react? Would Hux have to stab his way out of this sticky, self-initiated situation? What the hell had gotten into him?) Right now, his first thought is panic, then amusement, then as the Jedi girl trails along behind Ren like a lost loth kitten, it’s an inward groan of _oh, of course._

So all in all, he can’t really say he’s surprised. Disappointed that he isn’t allowed to shoot his former boss especially now with the advantage of him being unconscious to use his stupid Force powers, but no, not surprised.

Hux can’t say the same for Finn, though.

The traitor, exhausted from leading what Hux has to admit was the most successful, magnificent revolutions in his career, had been sitting at the dejarik board with his head in his hands. He’d looked up when the Wookiee entered, his expression brightening, and then instantly darkening when he’d recognised Ren.

He leaps to his feet and reaches for his blaster. Hux only has the liberty to roll his eyes.

“You think you can kill him here?” Hux mutters into his ear from where he’s leaning against the frame of the cabin doorway. “I would have beaten you to it by now.”

“Why haven’t you?” Finn hisses back, and as if on cue, his blaster flies right out of his hand and hits the ceiling.

Hux coughs.

From behind the Wookiee, the Jedi shoves herself between Finn and Ren, and she looks so angry Hux is briefly worried she might blow up the ship with them in it.

“Rey—”

“Don’t,” The Jedi raises a threatening hand. “Touch. Him.”

Finn's eyebrows shoot up. “Listen, I haven't seen you for almost two days, since you ran off to Force-knows-where, but the last thing I saw you do was _stab_ this guy. And now you're trying to save him? Do you have any idea who he is?”

He gestures towards Ren without looking, but his pointer finger jabs at empty space where the Wookiee had snuck him down the hall. Finn whirls around to follow, but the Jedi once again throws herself in his path.

“His name is Ben Solo,” the Jedi says. “He’s the son of Leia Organa and Han Solo—”

“Yeah, who he _killed_ — _”_

“You think it’s easy for him to live with that every single day?” the Jedi all but _shouts._ “You think he wasn’t in pain, when he was forced to kill his own father? To wake up with nightmares where your uncle corners you and murders you in your sleep? It was Snoke, it was Palpatine, I don’t care what you want to call him, but he hurt Ben in every imaginable way since the day he was born and even then the light in him never went out!”

The Jedi’s words crack something within Hux, slowly but surely. He isn’t completely sure as to what it is, but it has something to do with the fact that Snoke had been manipulating Ren the whole time - he didn’t know that before. He could’ve sworn Ren was the loyalest of dogs, and it was even more unexpected for him to have broken free of that abuse. It’s starting to sound awfully familiar to what he’d been through himself. With Brendol.

Suddenly, Ren was never as scary as his own mind painted him to be.

“You…” Finn says more hesitantly now. “You speak like you know him. Like you’re a part of him.”

“That’s because I am,” the Jedi says, and even though she still clearly has her hackles raised, she looks as if she might cry. Hux has never seen someone so strong display so much vulnerability at the same time. “I’m… I’m one with him. With his soul. We’re connected through the Force. I’ve seen what he’s seen. Felt the things he’s felt. And I—” She chokes on her words. “I love him.”

Okay. He's seen enough.

Hux trundles out of the vicinity and hides himself away at the dejarik board.

After a few minutes there’s more hushed voices, an abrupt shout of “What about Hux, then? We’re all best friends with him now, are we?” which he pointedly chooses to ignore.

A few more minutes pass, and sometime while Hux is taking out his new, conflicting emotions about Ren on the little holograms on the dejarik board, Finn reappears. Thankfully without the Jedi in tow.

For a long moment, they do nothing but stare at each other, Finn glaring at him with a funny look on his face, before he decidedly plops down next to where Hux is sitting.

“So. How’d it go,” Hux inquires, not actually wanting to know.

(Or maybe he does. Maybe if Finn reevaluates his thoughts about Ren, Hux wouldn’t feel as unsettled as he is. Like he won’t be the only one.)

Finn only responds by dropping his head flat onto the table with a loud _thunk._

Hux sits back and closes his eyes.

Alright then.

He’ll have to rely on Dameron’s reaction.

* * *

_Exegol dies a quieter death than the Death Star, or Scarif, or Alderaan, or Starkiller Base._

_It dies with the hazy blue ground crumbling in on itself, with one last shift of the dirt, sigh of the winds, cries of the lightning now rendered useless. It dies with the spectral ashes of Palpatine, with the remnants of the Sith Fleet’s fresh corpses, settling itself like a titan in its stony grave. Yet its place in the galaxy remains as a gateway between worlds - one that had been and may be opened by those who are worthy._

_Up above, the ships of the Resistance and their allies rise into the safety of the clouds, blinking away at lightspeed, taking the injured and triumphant with them. The Millennium Falcon brings up the rear, as she always has in every past war, but this time housing the very embodiments of balance. Twin stars, aligned at last, after a year of fighting a war that revolved itself around them._

_And so ends the final era of darkness._

_Not with a bang, not with a birth. Instead with the galaxy giving way something in between - an unspoken diffidence hanging in the balance newly achieved._

_After all, it is the first time balance_ has _been achieved._

_The Force has a way of being poetic, but until a certain point, there are things even poetry cannot describe._

_Things only time will tell._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCREAM AT ME ON @SHRUGGYBEN ON TWITTER SO I REMEMBER TO WRITE THE NEXT CHAPTER


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. um. hi...
> 
> *SCREAMS INTO THE VOID LIKE A CONSTIPATED DONKEY*
> 
> yes. im back. after god knows how long. i apologise for taking such a long hiatus but i do have a confession to make: this fic has been my life and soul for really really long... nine months almost. ever since i watched tr*s and published the first chapter of this fic on christmas 2019, i'd been in such a depressive state that i felt as if i'd die if i didn't finish writing it. but right now, as of october 2020, i can (proudly?) say that i don't feel tethered to it anymore!! i've moved on from star wars to other interests (ahem... fellow weebs where u at i binged 14 animes in a month) and i'm much happier now.
> 
> now i know what yall are thinking: wtf is gonna happen to tsarito then??? not to worry, i spent the entire month of september writing the ending of this fic and if you don't believe me, i have a vlog to prove it, it's full of clownery, pls go check it out!!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HKdGVKDTlbI
> 
> i hit a lot of mental and narrative bumps during this time, but i managed to complete the next 4 chapters and a third of the epilogue. so now, my friends, i present to you the first chapter of the last few chapters of this fic almost a year in the making. the beginning of the end. i hope i don't disappoint :'))
> 
> feel free to interact with me / react to this fic on my twitter @nezumionice!!
> 
> HIGHLIGHTS:  
> \- gingerpilots. GINGERPILOTS. this is the moment you have all been waiting for. this is IT. you KNEW it was coming.  
> \- soft reunions  
> \- breaking news: mother reunites with her son in a medbay after 20 years of guilt  
> \- tears. lots of it.  
> \- HAIR! BRAIDING! ALDERAANIAN LANGUAGE OF BRAIDS! AAAAAAA

Ajan Kloss has never before felt like such a home to Poe. After having his vision slaving away at the blinding blue hues of Exegol, returning to the lush green jungles and fresh cloudy skies feels like ripping a screen off his eyes. He lowers his X-Wing into the mossy hangar and the minute he pops open the cockpit, he takes a long, deep breath.

The war is finally over. He’s  _ home.  _

Poe looks up, and he can see his fellow rebels descending around him. It’s more than he could ever have hoped for, to see them all return to safety. 

Or at least, most of them.

The image of Hux being violently blasted back on the surface of that Destroyer replays, as clear and as piercing as ice into his memory.

Poe shudders and squeezes his eyes shut, against the flow of tears threatening to flow. He’s a commander. He remembers his training. Focus on the people who are  _ here _ . The mourning comes later.

He moves to lift himself out of his seat, but a searing pain shoots up his arm and he winces. He must’ve broken it while ramming himself against the side of his cockpit. Multiple times. When gravity had given up on him and when he’d nearly given up on the galaxy. His screams then were of a different sort of pain.

Still, the first thing he does is find Doctor Kalonia. She wraps him in an arm cast, throws it in a sling around his neck and tells him she’s glad to see him in one piece.

“Thanks, Kay. You too. I’ll get out of your hair now.” Poe replies with a tired smile, just as more injured pilots and fighters begin flooding the medbay and flagging her attention. He gets to his feet. “Oh, by any chance, do you know where Leia is?”

“She’s in the hangar,” Kalonia says, as she moves from patient to patient. Then she pauses, the end of her medical clamp poised in the air as she thinks. “If I’m not mistaken, she should be waiting for the Falcon. She wanted one of the private medbay rooms clear, so I’m afraid someone on board must be hurt quite badly.”

Poe’s chest seizes in horror as she says it. Not Finn or Rey too. Or Chewie or Lando. This war has taken enough from him, and it sure as hell won’t take anyone else even when it’s finally over. Not on his damn watch.

He races down to the hangar as fast as his feet can carry him.

When he locates the Falcon, the ramp is lowered but there’s no one around. It seems he’s missed Leia. He turns around, running his hand tiredly through his hair, surveilling the surroundings, half wondering if he should barge back into the medbay to find her and whoever had gotten so critically injured —

Then a  familiar Arkanis drawl slices him from his thoughts.

“How in the world did you manage to break your arm when all you had to do was sit in a cockpit?”

In one swift move, Poe whips around, and he swears he has to be dreaming.

Armitage Hux stands a short distance behind him, arms folded, hair gloriously mussed, dressed in the same Resistance garb from the last time Poe had seen him. So, yes, Poe thinks he’s definitely dreaming, or hallucinating, or seeing a ghost. At least until he catches sight of the hole the blaster bolt had left in Hux’s beige shirt, and what seems to be some kind of armoured vest. A laser proof vest.

In just two steps, Poe has closed the distance between them and placed a tentative hand on Hux’s cheek. The touch grounds him, it’s solid proof that Hux is here, and he’s alive and that’s all that matters. His spirits are already on the rise, as he splutters out the first bunch of words that are on his mind.

“I thought you were dead! I swear I was going to throw myself into the sun because you saved my life  _ again _ , the least I could do was save yours, just once, but I couldn't even do that and I'm so sorry — ” Poe stops to take a breath, a disbelieving smile spreading steadily across his lips. “I’m just, gods, I’m  _ so glad  _ you’re here…”

And before Poe knows what he's doing, he's leaning in, their faces are just inches apart and their breaths are mingling —

The way Hux's eyes widen makes him stop himself and jerk back. His hand slips from the side of Hux's face as if it scalds him.

"I'm sorry," Poe gasps, stumbling back and wringing his hands. "I didn't- I just- I don't know what came over me — "

"No," Hux says immediately.

Poe's ragged breath hitches and holds. "Wh-what?"

Hux grabs him by the wrist. His grip stings into Poe's flesh, dragging him away from the Falcon and into the hangar.

For the first time, Poe can find nothing to say, no quippy comeback or fun little tease. For the first time, as he watches Hux's painfully expressionless face, as his grip on Poe's wrist tightens, he's scared.

_ Oh, _ he thinks, his heart pounding in his ears when Hux leads him to the darkest and most secluded corner of the hangar, behind the rustiest of ships.  _ He's going to murder me and hide my corpse here so I'll get incinerated along with one of these rust buckets... _

Poe's too busy watching the folds of Hux's sleeve, where his monomolecular blade is no doubt hiding, to notice the raw semblance of hunger growing like a flame in Hux's eyes.

He releases Poe's wrist and shoves him hard against the side of one of the ships.

Poe's fight or flight instincts come alight, and in whichever case Hux is involved, that calls for a last ditch attempt to sweet talk his way out of this.

"Hugs, listen, I can explain — "

He really can't, but that's about as far as he gets before Hux lunges at him —

— and _ kisses him _ .

Poe's mind spirals into oblivion. Whatever he’d wanted to say before dies in his throat, instead emerging as a quiet moan as Hux cups the side of his neck and presses himself flush against Poe.

Everything about this, about  _ Hux,  _ is invading his senses, surrounding him till he can barely breathe. Nothing about this kiss is gentle. It’s all tongue and teeth and hunger unleashed for all it’s worth, and Poe falls into it within seconds. His eyes flutter shut, he slides one hand up into Hux’s messed-up ginger locks and throws the other around Hux’s neck, pulling him so close he feels they may meld into one. He never wants to let go again. It pains him to think they could have had this all along. 

But then Hux pulls back and kisses him again, chastely, on the corner of his mouth, and Poe stops thinking altogether.

“I’ve waited so  _ kriffing _ long for this, I’ve killed for this, I’ve confessed to a hundred stormtroopers for this,” Hux murmurs, the pupils of his eyes dilated as they flit across Poe’s face. “So if I hear you make one more terrible excuse...”

He kisses Poe again, and Poe leans blissfully, submissively into it for a long moment. Until Hux’s words ring an  _ oh-my-gods-he-did-something-adorable  _ bell in his head and Poe pulls himself back.

“Hold on,” he smirks. “Are you saying you confessed your  _ undying love  _ for me to a hundred stormtroopers?”

Hux says nothing. His kiss-swollen lips tighten to form a straight line, but the way he blushes an alarming shade of crimson gives it all away.

Poe’s heart does a flip.

“Awww, babe!” he crows gleefully. He leans in, his breath ghosting along the pale skin. “Come on. Admit it. You care about me. You  _ like  _ me.”

At that, Hux’s expression softens. He looks down at Poe, through the wisps of his bangs, and his lips pull into the smallest, most genuine smile Poe has ever seen.

“Yes,” he says, brushing his fingers against Poe’s cheekbone. “I like you, Poe Dameron.”

It takes Poe completely off guard. His jaw drops open, and now it’s his turn to blush. Poe wheezes, hiding his face in the crook of Hux’s neck. “Hugs, you can’t just say things like that without  _ warning me!" _

“My apologies, then,” Hux is clearly trying not to sound pleased to have discovered a new, disarming weakness about Poe. His arms come up to haughtily brush off the specks of lint Poe’s hair had scattered all over his shirt, pushing him back at arm’s length. “I’ll be sure to warn you when I’m about to say something particularly less life threatening than usual.”

Poe laughs. “It’s just that I remember you when  _ everything  _ you said was life threatening.”

Hux raises a challenging eyebrow. “And look at us now.”

Poe can’t help but kiss him again, but this time it’s slow and gentle and it tastes like everything he’s ever wanted.

“Yeah,” he whispers, smiling against Hux’s lips. “Look at us now.”

* * *

Rey watches, gnawing subconsciously on her fingernail, as Ben’s figure is dunked into a tank of bacta, pulled out and then hooked up to various monitors and machines. She sits by his bed, the faint but steady beep of the heart rate monitor serving as a comfort, her fingers intertwined with his as they lay motionless on his chest. The medical staff and droids are either sincere towards Rey’s request of privacy, or they’re just scared because the notorious Kylo Ren himself is lying in one of their beds. Either way, Rey can’t bring herself to care. She plays with the delicate thread that is the remnants of their bond, feeling it slowly regain its energy from Palpatine’s assault. She murmurs random thoughts against Ben’s knuckles and hopes he’ll wake up to it with one of his typical retorts. Eventually, she loses track of time. She barely registers the sun outside going down, the hunger aching from every muscle in her stomach or Leia’s gentle hand coming to lay on her shoulder.

“Rey,” Leia says, as if Rey is the one to awaken from a deep slumber. “You should get some rest.”

“I’m fine, General,” Rey gives her a weak smile. “It’s just been a long day.”

“So I’ve heard. People downstairs are looking for their hero.” 

Rey sighs. “I’m not their hero, Leia.”

Leia pulls up another chair next to Rey and sits. Then she takes both of Rey’s hands in hers. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

Something about the General’s presence is just so soothing and homely that the whole story, from Kef Bir to Exegol, spills from her lips like a dam breaking open. She tells it like she’s watching her own memories from years and years ago. She mentions her watery duel with Ben amidst the oceans of the moon, how she’d stabbed him, healed him, then how Palpatine’s chilling presence had taken over most of her senses the minute she’d stepped foot in his temple. She describes the way Ben had come back to her afterwards, like a beacon of hope himself, how Palpatine had intended to punish Ben (at this point Leia looks ready to create a new Starkiller Base and blow up Exegol for extra closure) and how they finally managed to defeat him.

“I’m not a hero,” Rey repeats tiredly, at the end of it. “I did what I had to, we both did. Anyone would have done the same.” 

Leia is silent for a minute, and then, “Rey, the thing about you is that,  _ you  _ could have been anyone. The Force, your connection with Ben, it could have gotten you anywhere, but you chose this path by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t be here without the Force.”

“Maybe so,” Leia raises an eyebrow. “But tell me, did you use the Force to defeat Palpatine?”

Rey opens her mouth in objection, and then closes it as she recalls; blinding whips of lightning lashing out against the cross of her sabers, inky black scars winding up her arms, but still she’d pushed onward like she was hauling the most generous pile of parts back on Jakku.

“The Force is not the strongest part of you, Rey,” Leia says kindly. “It’s the choices you make, your strength and resilience. And I don’t know about you, but that’s what people like to look up to. Can you blame them?”

Strangely, the tone of which Leia says it sounds exactly like something a mother would say, and Rey makes peace with it. They sit together in an amiable silence, watching the subtle rise and fall of Ben’s chest.

“Ben didn’t have a choice, did he?” Rey asks before she can stop herself. Through the corner of her eye she casts a wary glance towards Leia. “It took him  _ all that _ to come home.”

“You know, when I imagined our reunion, I didn’t think it would be like this,” Leia admits. “I always imagined he’d come home crying, voice raised, hell, maybe even lightsaber raised. Like a wildfire in a forest.”

Rey bites back the urge to smirk. “It’s not nice when he yells.”

Leia nods seriously. “It’s not. But my boy has always been emotional.” She moves a hand to Ben’s shoulder, and Rey notices the General is trembling, ever so slightly. “He burned so bright for so long, and I couldn’t help him. I gave up on him.” Leia’s fingers tighten in Ben’s shirt. “It was the biggest mistake of my life.”

“That makes the two of us,” Rey says quietly. “It wasn’t easy at first, but in the end it was worth it.”

“Wasn’t it,” Leia agrees. “Look at where that got him. Men are foolish when it comes to the people they love.”

“Ah,” Rey’s eyes dart towards Ben on instinct, bowing her head slightly so her hair hides her blush. “I’m sure they are.”

Leia is suddenly smug. “Which is why, if Ben wakes up and loses his mind at you half dead from exhaustion, I am not to blame.”

A disbelieving laugh is forced from Rey’s lungs. “How very manipulative of you, General.”

“Oh, please,” Leia snorts. “You’re just as stubborn as Ben is. I’ll do what I have to, and  _ you  _ haven’t eaten all day.”

Reluctantly, with one last look at Ben, hands gently prying away from his, Rey gets to her feet. “Promise me you’ll call for me when he wakes up.”

Leia smiles. “I won’t have to.”

* * *

As per tradition, the Resistance throws a party. A makeshift celebration, of food and rations cooked properly for once, of tables made from abandoned ammunition crates, of warm firelight dancing with the crowds, situated in an empty area in the hangar. A place of war turned into a place of peace, Rey thinks, yet no less chaotic.

She makes her way awkwardly through the Resistance crowd, occasionally having her hand shaken and shoulder patted. She doesn’t know where exactly she’s going, sieving aimlessly around all these people who think of her as a hero, yet something about it threatens to bring tears to her eyes.

They start to fall the second she enters a small clearing and sees them —

Finn, Rose, and Poe. Standing in a small circle, laughing together.

_ My friends. _

Rose turns around, sees her and says something. And even though Rey can’t hear her over the din of noise, she knows her name has been called. Even Poe’s stupid smirk, the one that usually makes her want to clock him over the head, is more welcoming than anything. Finn turns to look at her too, and as they make eye contact, it seems to be an acknowledgment of their friendship, how it’s grown complicated over the year they’d known each other, how they’ve had their disagreements, yet here they are. They’d fought a war together, since the very beginning, and nothing else matters because they’d won.

_ We’ve won,  _ Rey thinks, and over Rose’s head, Finn flashes her the smallest of smiles.

There’s a space in their circle reserved just for her, and as they open their arms, Rey can’t help but rush forward to fill it.

* * *

The first thing Ben notices when he cracks open an eye is the bandages strung tightly around his ribs, underneath a fresh black shirt with fitted sleeves that go to his elbows. Then how soft the surface beneath him is, how he’s sinking into it, how well it accommodates his weight. Then the soft beeping sound next to where he’s lying. Then  _ everything  _ comes back to him at once, in a rush, in a haste, so that his eyes fly open and he wakes fully with a gasp.

He thrashes himself upright and more things flood into his awareness. The white sheets of a medical bay, the purple vest slung over a chair next to his bed, and the soothing words, both familiar and painful in a way he can’t describe. A hand on his.

“Breathe, Ben.” Leia Organa’s worried face swims into view.

Ben is surprised he’s not having a panic attack right about now. Something about her presence calms him instead of agitates him. Like it used to.

He forces his breath to steady. And then slowly removes his hand from underneath hers. His mother does not protest, but there’s a flash of disappointment in her eyes.

“Where’s Rey?” he croaks.

“She’s in the hangar,” Leia says, with the same voice she always used whenever he woke up from a nightmare. He doesn’t quite know how he remembers that. “She wouldn’t leave your side. Wouldn’t eat or sleep, until I forced her to.”

“Thank you,” Ben blurts out, without thinking.

Leia smiles, but the tension remains. There’s a stagnant silence, except for the soft, constant beeping of the heartbeat monitor. A terrible ache sends a tremor through Ben’s body, that makes him bite back a groan and slump against the pillows. He wants to get up and find Rey. He wants to run, before guilt and dread reaches a climax in the storm of his thoughts, before those deep brown eyes that  _ he  _ inherited mirrors something he doesn’t want to see. But he’s so,  _ so  _ tired. And he promised himself he wouldn’t run. Not anymore.

“I should be thanking  _ her.” _

Ben peeks up at his mother through the bedraggled curtain of his hair. “Did she tell you what happened?”

Leia frowns a little. “Yes.”

“Then you know she was the one who defeated Palpatine.”

“She did,” Leia says slowly. “But she also took such good care of you.”

It’s not Rey’s responsibility to  _ look after  _ him. It’s not anyone’s. Yet a small, nostalgic corner of Ben’s heart twinges. “I’m not ten.”

“I know,” Leia says. She hesitates, which is something she never does. “That’s the last time I saw you.”

It hits Ben then, that it’s been that long. Two entire decades away from his mother, his family. In Palpatine’s grasp this entire time. He can still hear the Emperor's words, ricocheting through his mind like it did in the Sith temple.

_ Watching Skywalker and Organa suffer from your fall seemed to be the most vengeance I could achieve.  _

Guilt greets his heart once more, like an old friend.

“I’m sorry.” The apology slips from Ben’s lips so easily that Leia looks up at him in surprise.

“What? No, Ben,” she says quickly, and suddenly her hands are grasping at his again. The look in her eyes is urgent, but filled with an unbelievable sadness. “I never should have sent you away. You were old enough to make your own choices.” Leia closes her eyes. There’s a worrying silence, and Ben is half convinced she isn’t going to continue, that she’s about to stand up and walk right out the medbay doors and —

No. She can’t. She wouldn’t. Not again. Not after so long, and 20 years of this much guilt simmering between them.

When Leia speaks again, she’s clearly on the verge of tears. “I just… didn’t care.”

Ben’s heart  _ shatters. _ “Mom — ”

“You don’t have to say anything.” He can feel his mother’s hands shaking, like her own words hold the might of a waterfall, tumbling out after years and years. “You don’t have to stay. But it’s important to me that you know now...” Leia pauses, swallows as if steeling herself. A tear runs free, down her cheek. “I never blamed you. And I’m _ so proud  _ of you.”

Before Ben knows it, he’s crying too. Memories are rushing through his mind like a river. He recalls his mother braiding his hair every night, telling all kinds of silly stories to put him to bed, making him his favourite fruit pancakes from Kashyyyk. He recalls finding out about Vader’s lineage, and the message she’d recorded for him, the one he’d watched years too late. He recalls his own lightsaber crackling through his own father’s chest. He recalls his failed attempt to kill her on the Raddus, and feeling her Force presence subsequently dim out of his life along with the hope she had in him. He recalls that being such a suitable punishment for every crime he ever committed against her, against himself as he ignored his own pain. He recalls not being able to understand when her hope had started to shine once more, slowly but surely.

He still doesn’t understand now, why Leia isn’t piercing him with razor sharp words and listing his misdeeds, demanding for atonement.

But it’s the first time in his life anyone has ever told him they’re proud of him, the first time that isn’t part of a self-cooked illusion or figment of his imagination. His tears, warm against the skin of his cheeks, are proof that this is  _ real.  _ His mother is  _ proud of him. _

Even after everything he’s done.

“It’s just so nice to see you again.” Leia’s voice cracks. One hand comes up, brushing against his cheek. “All grown up...”

“Mom… ” Ben says again, a sob catching in his chest. “Mom, I’m sorry,” He squeezes her fingers and feels as if he’s five years old all over again. “Please, about Dad, I need to — ”

“Oh, my boy,” Leia gives him a watery smile and opens her arms. “Come here.”

Ben leans off the bed and falls into them, like it’s the most uncomplicated thing in the world. He feels her smoothing her hands over the plane of his back as they’re wracked with his sobs, burying his nose in her hair and breathing in her familiar scent. Ben’s hands fist in her gown, willing her not to let go, and for the first time, she doesn’t. 

For the first time, in the longest time, his mother feels like home.

He loses track of how long they stay there, of how many times Leia murmurs  _ it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re forgiven,  _ the reassuring vibration of her voice pressed against his ear _. _

Eventually, when they do pull apart, there’s a short and slightly awkward silence, filled with shy laughs and sniffles from the both of them. Embarrassment worms its way into Ben’s chest. What was he thinking, crying on the General of the Resistance like a baby? He’s more mature than this. He thinks desperately of what to say next, but Leia zones in on something first.

“Oh,” she huffs. “Look at your hair. All messy, like a Wookiee,” She reaches up and ruffles it even more, so a clump of it falls right over Ben’s eyes. “Turn around, I’ll braid it for you.”

_ Oh. _

So the General  _ wants  _ to baby him. In that case, Ben is still too speechless to resist. He shifts obediently so his back is facing his mother.

There’s a soft chuckle. Then a scrape of a chair. Then gentle fingers are carding through Ben’s hair and he can’t help but close his eyes against the sensation.

“You’re too tall for me,” Leia says, a hint of amusement in her voice as she parts his hair carefully into sections and begins braiding. Ben hums acknowledgement and for the next few minutes there’s nothing but peaceful quiet, combing fingers, and Ben’s sniffling gradually subsiding. He’s picking the monitors off his skin when Leia speaks again, and he can tell she isn’t just referring to his height.

“You’re just like your father.”

Ben freezes. Lets out a soft exhale. “I try to be.”

That was all he’d wanted to be since he was a kid.

There’s another pause, but then Leia says, “Not too much, I hope. You Solo boys can be exhausting.”

“I wonder where I get it from.” A smirk blooms across Ben's face, even as he feigns ignorance. “Dad used to say the same thing about you.”

“Did he, now? I’m flattered.” There’s a final tug on the ends of his hair, and Ben realises his bangs are swept up and tied round the back of his head. “There, all done.”

“Done coddling?”

“Ben Organa-Solo,” The use of his full name still sends a shiver up his spine, and when Ben turns back around, his mother has her hands on her hips. “You are a Prince of Alderaan, you need to look the part.”

“I remember now why I never got into politics.”

“Says the ex-Supreme Leader of an empire,” Leia smirks back at him, and Ben wishes he could see how similar they look right now. “It’s not all bad is it?”

He shrugs, swinging his legs off the bed. “All you do is sit in a room full of idiots, listening to them talk, even when you know you’re the smartest in the room.”

Leia’s proud expression seems to say  _ that’s my boy, _ but then she shakes her head. “How does Rey put up with you?”

“Trust me, I’d ask myself the same thing.”

Instinctively, he reaches out to the bond, and finds that its strength is nearly fully restored. Rey’s presence is like a warm fire pulsing on the other end, and all of a sudden his desire to see her again increases tenfold.

Leia prods him in the arm. “Come on.”

Ben blinks. “What?”

She shakes her head, almost fondly. “The  _ look  _ on your face, Ben, you’re not fooling anyone. I’ll take you to her.”

The offer takes him aback.

“Are you sure?” he asks warily, glancing around the medbay. “I’m not… a prisoner?”

“No,” Leia grins. “As far as the galaxy knows, Kylo Ren is dead.”

It’s strange for that phrase, one he’d spat so menacingly at his own father seconds before his death, to be used in such a context. Strange, but nice.

It’s not until they are almost out the doors of the medbay when Ben’s fingers fly up of their own accord, to indulge the silken ridges of each braid, meticulously tucked into a small knot at the back of his head.

“Mom,” he asks, out of pure curiosity. “The braid. What does it mean?”

Leia stops in her tracks. “What, you don’t trust me?”

Ben resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, I’m convinced you braided the equivalent of  _ moof-milker _ into my hair.”

Leia laughs, and tucks her hand in the crook of Ben’s arm, pulling her tight to her side. It feels so safe and it feels so right.

“ _ Risen _ ,” his mother says. “It means  _ risen _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE'S THE POSTING SCHEDULE FOR THE REMAINING CHAPTERS OF THIS FIC:  
> CHAPTER 28 - OCT 24  
> CHAPTER 29 - NOV 7  
> PROLOGUE - NOV 14  
> CHAPTER 30 - NOV 21  
> EPILOGUE - DEC 25
> 
> i have been having problems writing the epilogue due to an obscene lack of motivation so there's a high chance the epilogue might not be posted for.... uh.... a very very VERY long time. maybe not even until the rian johnson trilogy comes out. but yes, xmas 2020 is best case scenario, so wish me luck and i'll see ya next chapter :DD


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY THIS IS SUCH A SHORT CHAPTER BUT as ive mentioned in my previous notes,,, i deserve to write shorter chapters this shit is exhausting,,,
> 
> ANYHOO the only highlight here is reylo reunion and ALSO a new spicy conflict hehehe
> 
> ENJOY!!

Rey is busy stuffing her face with every dish of food being served, when the whole party suddenly goes quiet. There’s a distant smashing of a glass being dropped. The music cuts off. Everyone has stopped dancing, and is facing the entrance of the hangar.

Rey turns, trying to track their line of sight, and her breath catches in her throat when she sees —

Ben Solo, standing nervously by the entrance, up and conscious and  _ alive,  _ for the first time since she’d seen him since Exegol. He’s fitted with a different (noticeably tighter) shirt, there’s a braid in his hair (for kriff’s sake, he looks so  _ good),  _ and in that moment, Rey thinks, he has never been farther from the man she met in the forests of Starkiller base. A lifetime ago.

Now, Ben fidgets with one sleeve, eyes sweeping the crowd. Leia stands next to him, defiant as ever despite looking like an Ewok beside her son, glaring at everyone as if to dare them to say anything.

For a long, painful moment, no one actually says anything. Rey is too stunned herself. The crisp she’s holding falls limply from her fingers. Her limbs refuse to cooperate even as her mind is screaming for her to get up and  _ go to him. _

Instead, she reaches out through the bond, brushing her presence against his. The effect is instant. Ben’s eyes light up as they finally meet hers, and it feels like the very first moment the Force had connected them. The corners of his lips tilt upwards ever so slightly, and he takes one step towards her.

There’s a scuffle, a scrape of a crate against the ground, and then someone gets on a table in front of Ben, blocking his path.

Judging by the way he’s wearing the same black outfit Finn had been wearing when he first defected, Rey concludes he’s probably one of the stormtroopers who had returned with them on Exegol.

And judging by the bottle of alcohol in his hand, he’s probably drunk.

There’s an inevitable storm brewing in the room. Rey can feel it, and chances are it won’t end well. Before she knows it, she’s on her feet.

“You’re not welcome here.” The trooper’s words come out, surprisingly, not in a slur. But it’s no less threatening, and it’s directed at Ben.

Ben goes still, his attention snapping to the trooper. Leia looks borderline murderous.

“Soldier,” she says. “You can either get off the table or get off my base.”

“I’m sorry, General, just gimme a moment.” The trooper waves his hand like he's swatting insects, and the smile on his face is so artificial it’s sort of terrifying. “I wanna feel what it feels like to be Kylo Ren,” He leans forward slightly, so he’s towering over Ben on the table. “Thinking everything and everyone is all… beneath him.”

Leia starts towards him, and the entire crowd backs away as one, gasping and parting like an ocean. “I’m warning you — ”

Ben lays a hand on her shoulder. “Mom, it’s okay.” Then his tone shifts into icy sarcasm. “He’s clearly drunk.”

The trooper scoffs loudly, almost hysterically. The Resistance elapses into a buzz of  _ Kylo Ren  _ and  _ son  _ and  _ criminal.  _ Rey feels her blood start to boil.

“Oh, take that as a mercy, Supreme Leader,” the trooper says, brandishing his bottle. “‘Cuz if I were sober, you’d be on the ground by now.”

Ben does not back down. Instead, his shoulders square and his fists clench. The tic in his lower eyelid returns. “I’d like to see you try.”

He strides forward without warning, and this time the crowd parts again at the speed of light.

“Hey!” Leia shunts herself between them. “Enough.”

“You…” The trooper squints at Ben. Points at him. Then something in his demeanor deflates. His finger trembles violently. “You give me nightmares, y’know.”

Ben recoils, like he's been hit.

“You think you can see through us, well, you don’t,” the trooper continues, but now his words grow in savagery. “You just force your way in. And you take and you take and you take. Whatever the hell you want. Isn’t that right?”

“I’m sorry,” Ben says immediately, head bowed, and Rey’s heart clenches in her chest. “I’m sorry, I really am.”

For another rigid moment, the Resistance is dead silent. Breathing heavily, Rey looks around to assess their faces. Some are skeptical, some are confused, but most are strangely unreadable. 

The trooper, on the other hand, looks as if he’s about to burst into tears. “You better be!” He yells it the same time he flings his bottle in Ben’s direction.

It was probably going to hit the floor, but Rey doesn’t take any risks. Not anymore.

She yanks at the bottle with the Force. It soars and shatters against the far wall instead, and then she’s skidding in front of Ben to shield him.

The Resistance breaks into an uproar. Finn and Poe have appeared to hold the trooper back as he attempts to throw a drunken, lopsided punch at Ben from ten feet away. Hux is once again vacating the premises with his hands over his head. Masses of people are yelling at once. Rey feels the warmth of Ben pressing up against her back, and only then does she realise her entire frame is shaking.

Funny, what a bottle of alcohol can do to her.

Leia turns to them. “Go.”

Rey blinks. “What?”

“I’ll handle this.” Leia gestures at the chaos before them. “You two find someplace safe for now.”

“But — ”

“Ben,” Leia tells him sternly. “I said  _ go.” _

Ben hesitates, but slips his hand into Rey’s. Together, they duck out of the orange glow of the broken celebration.

* * *

Rey leads him to a clearing amidst the ships in the hangar, a short distance away from the party. They lean against the side of a ship, catching their breath. The wind tumbles through their hair, the trees whistling and casting shadows across their faces. The scent of burned-out ship fuel and the faint whiff of alcohol surrounds them.

Then Rey pushes herself upright and begins pacing in front of him.

“Are you feeling better?”

Ben can’t help the tiny smirk pulling at his mouth. “You think my mother would let me come down here if I wasn’t?”

Rey only gives him a curt nod and resumes pacing. It’s starting to get a little concerning.

“Rey — ”

“I’m sorry.”

Ben softens. “What for?”

Rey wrings her hands. “It took you so much to come back. To be here, now. But after everything you still don’t have the peace you deserve.” 

“Part of coming back means I have to face these people.” Ben steps towards her and takes her hands again. “You think I don’t know what I signed up for? Things have never been easy for me, and they’re not about to start getting easier now.”

“I know, I know,” Rey closes her eyes in defeat, facing the moonlight above them. “I just wanted this to be a home for you.”

Ben replies immediately. “It can’t be.”

“Why not?” Rey frowns at him, her eyes wide, and for a moment Ben feels as if they’re back on Ahch-To, arguing about  _ identity  _ and  _ belonging _ .

“You see how they look at me,” Ben shakes his head desperately. He has to make her understand. “They’re terrified. Rey, if there’s one thing I’m sure of it’s that I will never be part of the Resistance. You know it’s true.”

Rey bites her lip , her brows furrowing the way they always do when she plunges deep into thought.

“Do you remember… the future I showed you?” she asks slowly. “Before…”

Her voice trails off in the wind, like she can’t bear to say it, and Ben doesn’t want to hear it either. The cold, emptiness of her soul seeping away, the pain of its incompletion, the blankness in her eyes as she laid unmoving in his arms, it’s something he’d rather not relive. But he’d be lying if he said he could ever forget it.

“Yes.”

When Rey looks back up at him, there’s a spark of hope in her eyes that wasn’t there before, her voice dimmed to a mere whisper, “We could go find it.”  _ If you still want it,  _ she adds quickly through the bond.

She’s crazy if she thinks he’s second guessing it. His heart leaps at the implication, and now that the idea, the  _ future,  _ isn’t shadowed by death, there’s nothing in the galaxy he wants more. 

Ben cups her cheek in one hand. “Of course, I want it. But…” He hesitates, figuring out how to say this without giving her the wrong idea. “Rey, there are people here who love you and care about you, and I don’t want to make you choose again —”

That’s about as far as he gets before Rey reaches up and places a finger on his bottom lip to silence him. It works like a spell - his breath seems to die in his throat at her touch.

“All my friends have their own paths. It took me long enough to realise that mine is with you.” Rey’s grin is bathed in silver by the moonlight. “So you’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not, Solo.”

Just like that, Ben can’t stop himself. 

“Whether I like it?” He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her to him, so their faces, their  _ lips,  _ are nearly touching. “I  _ love  _ it.”

Rey lets out a laugh, her hand moving to brush his hair out of his face and her eyes falling closed. They lean in at the same time, and it’s just like when she was on Jakku and him on Ahch-To, when their connection had granted them one last intimate moment before the battle, except now they’re both  _ here _ , breaths away, and Ben finds himself thinking,  _ the Force can’t stop us now _ _ — _

“My goodness, look who it is!”

For  _ kriff’s  _ sake. 

“Ben, don’t,” Rey says, drawing back to grip his arm before he can fling it out towards the incoming protocol droid.

“Master Ben!” Threepio, as annoying and golden as ever, points a finger right in his face. “The last time we met, I believe was twenty years, eighteen moons and two hundred — ”

“Yeah, I get it,” Ben grits out, as Rey sniggers in the background. “Long time no see.”

“If I am not mistaken, R2 is still in possession of your baby holo-recordings!”

Ben can feel his face rapidly heating. “No, no, let’s not — ow!”

R2-D2 rolls right over his feet, shunting himself directly between him and Rey.

Still an asshole droid. Some things never change. Ben aims a kick at him, only to receive an excruciating zap of electricity to the back of his calf. He falls to the ground with a yelp, the same time Rey shouts, “BB-8, no!”

The zap is so strong it prickles through his entire body, leaving him dizzy, his vision going static. He can vaguely make out the sound of Threepio reprimanding his two attackers. He feels Rey’s hands frantically roaming over his face, checking for injuries, and he has enough sense to mumble “It’s nothing, I’m okay, don’t worry.”

“I’m going to kill that droid,” Rey sighs, her face flickering back into sight.

Ben props himself up on one elbow, rubbing his calf with a groan. “It’s Dameron’s, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah.”

“That makes sense.”

Rey lets out a soft laugh and turns to look at where the droids are beeping indignantly amidst Threepio’s frantic voice. “I’ll miss them, though.”

Ben follows her gaze, watching the BB unit spin in angry circles, and realises - it’s  _ the  _ BB unit. The one he’d been chasing for so long. The one that had led him to Rey in the first place. He looks back at her, and there’s a sense of longing radiating in gentle waves from her side of the bond, like she can’t help  _ but  _ miss all this, the family the Resistance had given her. The home.

He understands now. Rey had been explicit in her choice to be with him, but he knows, better than anyone, that moving on can’t be easy.

Especially when her friends would probably throw him into a bottomless pit, given the chance.

Rey finally looks back at him and catches him staring.

“I don’t know how I’m going to tell them,” she whispers. “I have to say goodbye.”

Ben sits up and wraps her arms around her. “Take all the time you need. I can wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POSTING SCHEDULE:  
> CHAPTER 29 - NOV 7  
> PROLOGUE - NOV 14   
> CHAPTER 30 - NOV 21  
> EPILOGUE - DEC 25
> 
> SEE YA NEXT MONTH


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here's the thing. i probably have a lot of explaining to do, but let's start with this:  
> i haven't touched this fic since late september. i haven't looked at it, not even spared a glance, but now reading it for the first time in like 1.5 months... wow im kinda emotional
> 
> i can't believe i've written over 100k words on a single project and reading the last part of this particular chapter rly hits different. i feel like the movie, if this were a movie, could end right here. and i know some of yall might not want it to. i kinda don't want it to, because theo and i came up with what i still believe is the most legendary ending to star wars ever. and although i'm not in the right mental state to write it, nor will i be in the near future, i promise if i do end up writing the epilogue, it will be to the very best of my abilities. im pretty sure i've mentioned this before jfdksfjd
> 
> anyways,, sorry i couldn't deliver this chapter on schedule (*adam driver voice* i couldn't feed the rats ON SCHEDULE) i had somewhat of a mental breakdown that day and it was Not Fun lmao i couldn't leave my bed for 5 hours fhdjk but im fine now so here's the chapter you've all been waiting for!! a delightful 6k words!!
> 
> on to the highlights!!  
> \- i'd like to state that this is the last time you'll be seeing some of the characters in this story (as in physically. i plan to have them featured in a holo call in the epilogue but plans change so who knows) in this case,,, say goodbye to rose and jannah :'))  
> \- say goodbye to finn :'))  
> \- hux has a little revelation about his mom..... courtesy of ben solo  
> \- say goodbye to lando and chewie :'))  
> \- gingerpilot foreshadowing what they'll be doing in the future  
> \- reylo have another lovely intimate moment... inspired by a certain classic literature film adaptation hmmmm

The next day, the General announces that the main body of the Resistance will be split into two. 

The first group will remain on base to help the Resistance settle, and eventually, rebuild the New Republic. This mostly involves labour and logistics, both of which the newly facilitated stormtroopers are particularly skilled at.

The second group will head out across the galaxy with the other stormtroopers, those who are looking to relocate the families they’d been stolen from.

Jannah had chosen to go with the second group. She did not, however, expect the General herself to approach her with an offer to lead it.

General Organa’s presence had been so intimidating despite her kind eyes and kind voice, that Jannah had panicked, stuttering her acceptance and gratitude like an idiot.

“Oh, one more thing,” Organa had said before sweeping out of her bunker. “If the job’s too much for you, feel free to choose a co-leader.”

Which is why Jannah is pacing back and forth outside the bay doors of a workshop. Drilling noises and the clanking of bolts ricochet from the inside.

She doesn’t know why she’s so nervous. She has no reason to be.

Except the fact that the person in that workshop has saved her life  _ on horseback _ and she might have the tiniest, littlest crush… but that’s not why Jannah’s going to ask her to be her co-leader. She’s strong, capable and good with new people. Unlike Jannah herself. 

See, perfectly unsuspicious reasons! Not that there’s anything to be suspicious about in the first place...

Besides, she could always get rejected.

Jannah wants to  _ rip  _ her hair out. She can fire six arrows with her eyes closed. She can ride backwards on an orbak. She can do both of those things at once.

But for the life of her, she can’t even suck it up and talk to a girl.

This is ridiculous. She’s being ridiculous. It’s not even that big of a deal. All she needs to do is go in there, explain her situation and get an answer. She’s got this.

Jannah takes a few steps forward, raising her hand towards the control panel of the blast door —

—when it hisses open on its own and she finds herself face to face, inches away, from a startled Rose Tico.

No, she’s most definitely  _ not  _ got this.

The first thing she notices is the dark smear of grease on Rose’s forehead (she forcibly swallows the urge to reach out and wipe it off). Then her hair swept into a short braid instead of the two buns she’d been wearing during the mission, then her dark green jumpsuit with sleeves rolled up to her elbows, where her fingers and forearms had evidently met the same greasy fate as her forehead. Jannah realises her eyes are roaming before she schools her features back to what she hopes is neutrality.

“Oh,” Rose breathes. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Jannah greets back, rather stupidly. “I, um…”

Then Rose steps  _ even closer _ , so the blast door can slide shut behind her. Jannah’s tongue seems to have conveniently decided to shrivel up in her throat, along with her entire train of thought. Why is this so kriffing hard?

“I came to thank you,” she ends up saying instead. “For saving my life.”

Rose looks at her for a moment, an unknown emotion flickering in her gaze. She lets out a soft laugh. “You already did… but just so you know, you really don’t have to.”

Just brilliant. Repeating things she’s already said. This is a disaster already, she won’t even last the next five minutes. She’s not even making any sense, is she? She should just abort everything, say goodbye and go before her dignity gets sucked out an airlock.

“Right. Okay. I guess I’ll get going, then. Nice talking to you!”

Jannah turns on her heel. Goes to flee back down the corridor with her heart sinking just as fast.

“Jannah, wait!”

She whips back around. Rose hurries up to her, and seems a little hesitant herself. Is that a shade of pink beginning to dust her cheeks? Jannah tries not to dwell on that.

“I’m… sorry about Aden,” Rose says. “He must have meant a lot to you.”

It’s not at all what she’d expected to hear, but Aden’s name sends an automatic rope of guilt down her spine. “He did.”

She thinks back to the time they’d defected together, Aden being the first person she trusted to confide in. Aden watching her six and blending their combat styles seamlessly together during ambushes. Aden being terrified of orbaks on their first week on Kef Bir. Aden’s stupid burnt meat carcasses for dinner. Aden complaining like the petulant inner child he is, about Kef Bir being too wet, too cold, too stinky. Aden cracking the worst jokes just before they’d gone out onto the Exegol battleground. Aden’s vanishing smirk as he threw himself in front of a blaster bolt set to hit Jannah’s back.

Her best friend had died with a smile on his face. It was the most liberated she had ever seen him.

“He always believed in fighting for what was right,” Jannah says. “And now that the war’s over… I think he’s at peace.”

Rose nods sympathetically. “I’d liked to have known him.”

He would have gotten along with Rose. He would have liked it even more to tease Jannah about her stupid little crush too. She’d do anything to have him come back to do it right now. 

“What about you?” Jannah asks. She feels herself shuffling closer on impulse. “I’ve heard… about your sister…?”

Rose smiles, and it’s a wistful one. “Her name was Paige. She was always the leader between us, ever since we were kids, and I loved her for it. She just knew what she was doing all the time. Even when she died…” Rose’s eyes glass over, as her hand drifts up to grab the small metal pendant hanging around her neck. “She died knowing what she believed in. She died brave. So that’s what I’m trying to be.”

Jannah can’t help but return a smile. All the reassurance she can muster blooms to her lips. “You’re doing a wonderful job.”

“So are you,” Rose replies, without missing a beat.

Somehow, that is all it takes to spur Jannah right back into the mess. She doesn’t think again.

“I’m taking the troopers out to find their families,” she blurts out. “Come with me.”

Rose’s mouth parts in a sharp intake of breath. The expression on her face is still more of blatant surprise than anything else, and before it can change, Jannah is avoiding her eyes like the coward she is, rambling on and on.

“It’s just that… I’ve never led such a large group before, and I’m not good with emotional stuff, which I’m sure there’ll be a lot of when we-  _ if  _ we are successful.” She pauses. Catches her breath. Casts a sheepish glance at Rose. The commander has a distant, far off look in her eyes, and Jannah immediately backtracks. “You don’t have to come, of course, I’m just asking. Wondering. I mean, you seem to like it here and I don’t want to take you away from — ” 

“Yes.”

“The things that you — ” Jannah almost chokes. “Wait what?”

“Yes.” Rose says again, louder, more resolutely, and then she’s beaming like the karking sun. Jannah gapes at her. Rose throws her arms around Jannah’s middle and Jannah can feel her words whispered against her collarbone, soft and beseeching. “Yes, you can take me away.”

_ Oh. _

Jannah squeezes her eyes shut, stifling a shout of triumph as she returns the hug. She knows there must be grease all over the back of her shirt and on her shoulder where Rose is pressing her forehead to, but she also knows neither of them really care. For a long moment, she lets herself savour the moment, because gods, this is about as good as it gets, isn’t it? She turns her head to bury her nose in Rose’s hair, catching a subtle whiff of freshly hewn metal and ship fumes and is it concerning that she’s starting to have a strange obsession with these smells? 

Jannah guesses after living on an ocean moon for so long and smelling nothing but the tangy loneliness of salt, this rather reminds her she isn’t alone. Her pulse is thudding away at lightspeed, even after Rose finally draws back.

And asks, with that same illuminating, excited smile, “So when are we leaving?”

Kriff. This girl will be the death of her.

“In a few days,” Jannah says, giving in and reaching out to swipe at the grease on Rose’s forehead. “Or anytime you like.”

Rose scrunches her nose at her. “What am I, your chariot?”

Jannah feels heat rushing into her face. “Oh, come off it!”

“A princess always needs her chariot, doesn’t she?”

“Stop it, I’m not a princess!”

“I don’t understand, you got it all,” Rose scoffs and starts ticking off her fingers. “Badass, takes care of her people, compassionate, stunning good looks — ”

Jannah is laughing now, mostly out of embarrassment and  _ did Rose Tico just call her good looking?! _ “I can’t take this, you  _ know,  _ I’m not good at this...” She waves her hands aimlessly between them.

“Emotional stuff?” Rose shrugs. “Well, that’s why you need me, right? You can ask anyone, compliments are my specialty. I can and will lather you in them. You’ve left me no choice.”

Jannah points accusingly at her. “Don’t make me regret asking you along.”

(She doesn’t, nor will she ever.)

“Too late,  _ princess. _ I’m packing my things.” Rose stops short of heading back into the workshop. She turns back to Jannah, grabs her by the finger and drags her along. “And you’re going to help me.”

Jannah doesn’t remember the last time she’d smiled so much.

* * *

The minute the sun rises over the horizon of Ajan Kloss, Rey can’t bring herself to sleep another wink.

Ben won’t be released from his cell until late morning, but she figures it’s best to prepare. Slowly, she begins filling a bag with belongings, her birth certificate, Ben’s old cloak, the Jedi texts.

(Or maybe it’s a ploy to keep herself busy. To delay her goodbyes.)

She doesn’t get very far, when there’s a rap on the doorway of her bunker.

“Well, you look excited.”

She turns around and suddenly her heart doesn’t know whether to leap or sink. “Finn.”

He steps into the room, hands behind his back, and stops when he sees the half-packed bag sitting on her bunk. His tone holds the slightest, most subtle amount of bitterness. “Were you planning on saying goodbye?”

Rey swallows hard. “I’m sorry.”

“Is that a no?”

“No!” she says, raising her hands in defeat. “No, I just… I didn’t know how.”

“It’s one word, Rey,” Finn sighs. “It’s not gonna hurt.”

“Except it is.” Her voice wavers, sneaking a teary eyed glance at him. “I’ll miss you.”

Finn steps closer, bitterness giving way to a tired sort of sadness. “Then stay.”

Rey doesn’t even have to refuse or even shake her head. The look on her face is all it takes for Finn to draw back and raise his eyebrows. “But that’s been out of the question for a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Are you going to stop me?” she asks.

There’s a pause, in which Finn dips his head, and Rey can’t tell if he’s angry or disappointed or possibly both. Either way, she has a bad feeling this might end with their friendship in flames...

“Does  _ he  _ make you happy?” Finn asks at last, without making a single instance of eye contact.

Rey sucks in a breath. There’s no questioning who  _ he  _ refers to. She nods. “He makes me whole.”

“Do you love him?”

“More than I can say.”

There’s another extended pause. Silence, stretching on, an adhesive to the ever-rising tension between them. It seems like lightyears have passed when Finn finally looks up at her. Rey almost breaks at the sight of his eyes filling with tears too. His words, in the end, are what breaks her.

“Then take care of yourself.”

He offers her the smallest of smiles.

With a sniff, Rey throws herself into his arms and hugs him tight. She can sense how he’s still hurting from when Ben had drawn a blazing strike up his back, how he’s scarred from the incident and during his time in the First Order. How he can’t forgive Ben.

But he doesn’t have to. That’s more than Rey would have ever dared to ask of him.

This, Finn bringing his arms up to hug her back, is everything she needs right now.

“You’re the best friend anyone could ask for,” Rey mumbles into his jacket.

There’s a smirk in Finn’s voice as he says, “I know.”

She pulls back. “What will you do, Commander?”

Finn gestures towards himself. “This commander isn’t a commander anymore.”

Rey’s eyebrows shoot up. “You got demoted?”

“Uh, promoted, actually.”

“But the only thing higher than a commander is…” It hits her. Her jaw drops. “Oh, Finn.”

Finn beams. “Leia made me Co-General. I’m heading the stormtrooper rehabilitation on-base.”

It’s been a year since Rey had known him as the sweaty, not-Resistance-fighter who’d dragged her into this war on Jakku. Now, Finn stands before her as one of the highest ranking officers of said Resistance. She places a firm hand on his shoulder. The pride swelling in her chest knows no bounds and chokes her words out of her. “You’ve come so far.”

Finn doesn’t hesitate to mirror her, his warm grip upon her shoulder and his voice low with emotion. “We both have.”

* * *

Ben had slept in a holding cell overnight.

It wasn’t just that the base had run out of bunkers to sleep in, but also because he could sense how absolutely traumatised some of the Resistance fighters were of him, how his face is what keeps some of them awake all night. He didn’t want to make that any worse. Rey had obviously been adamant about it, but when Ben had asked her where else he could sleep, she’d blushed a furious shade of scarlet and muttered something about  _ my bunk might not be big enough, anyway. _

Either way, he hadn’t complained. It’s not a bad cell. Ben suspects it was Leia’s doing.

It’s old fashioned, the doors are made of relatively grimy-looking metal bars, and there’s moss growing all over the walls. But the cot inside is laden with two pillows and a blanket. There’s a bottle of water stashed beneath it, along with a tiny window in the far wall that looks out over the outdoor sub-hangar of the base, where the Falcon is resting.

It’s quiet, too, and that’s the part he’d appreciated the most.

He’d spent some time meditating. Then fell asleep while meditating. During the night, he barely stirred, but when he did, it was to the feeling of a smaller body materialising with a hum in his arms and a hand combing through his hair, trailing down his braid and skimming across his cheek. They’d drifted back to sleep together, and they’d dreamt of their future.

But when Ben wakes up, Rey is gone, and so is the quiet.

“Good morning, Supreme Leader.” A voice drawls from the cell next to him, and Ben’s eyes fly open.

_ Armitage Hux _ is slumped in his own blanket-less, pillow-less cot, fidgeting with something shiny strung on a chain around his neck, glaring daggers at him through the bars separating them.

_ General Armitage Hux. _

Ben sits up, in a complete daze. He must have missed something, because he could have sworn Hux died along with the Sith Fleet. Either that or he’s dreaming, which is unlikely because there’s no way his brain could imagine Hux wearing… are those  _ Dameron’s clothes?  _

“How did you get here?”

Hux looks at him like he’s stupid. “Through the door.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Hux sighs. “If you really have no idea by now, you’re more foolish than I ever gave you credit for.”

Ben had never heard him talk like this since he became Supreme Leader. Hux had changed somehow, he notices. He’s not the scheming prick that he once knew. Or at least, he’s still a prick, but he definitely doesn’t seem to be scheming. Instead he seems… content.

“Don’t do that,” Hux says suddenly, his fingers dropping the shiny necklace. It slips back beneath the folds of his cream coloured shirt (Hux in light coloured clothes will be something that never ceases to astound him).

“Do what?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Hux snarls, turning away. “Like you’re trying to read my mind.”

“I’m not — ”

“Well, don’t even try it!”

“I won’t!”

Hux curls in on himself even tighter. “It’s like I’m being locked up with a dog.”

Ben frowns, resisting the urge to smother him with one of his pillows. “Easy, General. I asked you a simple question.”

Hux’s cold gaze snaps to him again. His tone is just annoyed now. “So simple that you can’t even think for yourself, isn’t that right?”

“You know why  _ I’m  _ here.”

“Everyone knows why you’re here,” Hux throws back at him. “The Jedi is in love with you.”

Ben blinks at him. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re oblivious of that too,” Hux sneers, and it’s almost a challenge.

“I do know,” Ben finds himself angry all of a sudden. If this is what Hux wants, he’ll have to fight fire with fire. “What’s with you and Dameron, then?”

Hux tenses. “How did you know?”

Ben gestures towards him. “You’re wearing his clothes.”

“Wh — these are  _ his  _ clothes?” Hux leaps to his feet, looking himself up and down, and Ben would be lying if this wasn’t the least bit entertaining.

“Who’s the fool now?” He sits back in grim satisfaction.

“I can’t believe it,” Hux looks just about ready to rip the bars of his cell off their hinges. “That  _ bastard  _ let me walk around wearing this for two whole days — ”

“Two days?” Ben interrupts. “Hang on, you’ve been here since…” Slowly, his brain rewires, does more calculations. Then he ploughs forward to grip the cell bars between them. “Hux, were you with them since Kef Bir?”

Hux says nothing.

“You left with them when they came for Chewie on the  _ Steadfast,”  _ Ben goes on. He shakes his head. “Why?”

“I’m the bloody spy, you oaf,” Hux groans at him, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “I’m the spy who’s been transmitting them information since the beginning, I was the one working with Boolio, and it wasn’t enough to pardon me from permanent exile for my crimes against the galaxy, is that what you want to hear?”

“You?” Ben can hardly find words. Of all people, he never thought it would be  _ Hux.  _ Or maybe a small part of him did, but thought that it was more funny than possible, so he’d ignored it.

He starts laughing now.

“What’s so funny?” Hux sounds scandalised. “Stop it, I’ve seen you cry over a Wookiee, and that was traumatising enough.”

“This means,” says Ben, trying to control more incoming fits of mirth. “You and I both betrayed the First Order for… what did you call them? Rebel scum?”

There’s a pause.

“Admit it,” Ben settles himself in the cot again and leans his head against the wall. “We’re both fools here.”

Hux raises an eyebrow. “That’s a first.”

Ben shrugs. “You’re not the only one who’s changed.”

“You’re…” Hux asks, haltingly, as he begins fidgeting with his shiny silver necklace again. “Not curious as to why I defected in the first place?”

“Is it Dameron?”

Hux scoffs. “No.”

“Hm,” Ben says, and decides to toy with him. “He’s got a nice ass, though, I’ll give you that.”

The way Hux’s eyes narrow completely exposes his own lie.

“I’m kidding,” Ben clarifies quickly. “Trust me, I know better than anyone when reasons are personal.”

Hux doesn’t stop glowering at him, continuing to play with his silver necklace until it jingles against its chain. Ben makes to wriggle back beneath his warm blanket and catch a few more winks before the guards release him for the day. But just as he turns away, there’s a sharp, pinging snap.

Hux’s silver necklace comes shooting through the bars of his cell and right into Ben’s.

He hears Hux curse in five different dialects, and then the ex-general is on the ground by the bars, sticking his arm through and trying to reach it. All in vain of course. It’s crossed almost half the cell towards Ben.

“You can’t — ” Ben sighs, and relents. “Hang on.”

He gets out of his cot. Stalks over to the necklace, only to realise that it’s not a necklace. It’s a pair of dog tags.

**_HUX,_ **

**_ARMITAGE._ **

**_348-41-9373_ **

**_BATCH 1_ **

**_ARKANIS ACADEMY_ **

Right. The place where Hux trained to be in the First Order Military. It makes sense that Hux was part of the first template of officers, taking after the Empire. He’s the son of Brendol Hux. But Ben can’t quite decipher why such a dog tag would mean so much to him. As far as he knew, Hux had always despised his father. Might even have had a hand in his murder.

Yet Hux looks up at him now, eyes glinting with so much venom that for a split second Ben almost flinches. “Ren, I swear on my life, if you touch it — ”

Ben ignores him, crouching down to pick it up. “Do you want it back or — ”

The moment his fingers come into contact with the cool metal, the Force swells with a vision and engulfs him in it.

_ A young woman, hair as black as night, sneaking visits to a small ginger-haired boy even when the Academy’s security is one of the best in the sector. _

_The same young woman, smiling as her_ son _,_ _Armie, showed off his new dog tags._

_ “Keep them well, my love,” she’d said proudly, curling his small fists around the metal tags like it’s their little secret. “These are what will get you anywhere in the galaxy, without question.” _

_ “Even to you?” little Armie had asked. _

_ “Even to me,” the woman smiled. “But you don’t have to worry. I’m not going anywhere.” _

_ Except two years later, Armie did. Taken away by a father both of them feared, to join the growing regime that was the First Order. _

_ She never saw her son again. She could not even keep her promise of staying on Arkanis. _

_ The kitchen kept her busy, and most importantly, safe. But it wouldn’t protect her from what she sensed was orbiting the planet, preparing to reduce it to nothing but stardust in a matter of minutes. _

_ So she did what she should have done with Armie, the minute he was born. _

_ She ran. _

_ Brimming with guilt, she ran. _

_ Her ship, stolen, buzzed and crackled into the airlessness of space, right before her home planet burst into absolutely nothing, right before her eyes. _

The vision ejects Ben with the explosion of Arkanis, and with Hux yanking the chain out of his hands through the bars.

“Your mother,” Ben says in a low voice. “She was your mother.”

Hux fastens the dog tags back around his neck and doesn’t meet his eyes.

“I told you to stop reading my mind.”

“I didn’t.”

“Then how would you have known?” Hux bursts out. He whirls around, a sneer contorting his face. “Don’t be such a kriffing liar,  _ Kylo Ren,  _ you’ve always gotten what you want by doing it! Yes, I call everyone a bastard, when I’m really one! Yes, I hold on to the one thing that still reminds me of my mother! Yes, she’s dead and there’s nothing I can do about it!” Hux moves forward and grips the bars so violently they rattle, and Ben takes a step back. “You said this isn’t even any of your business, you said you know when reasons get personal, but that was just a lie too, wasn’t it? What more could you possibly want?”

There’s a head-ringing silence. Hux is breathing heavily, his hair falling over his forehead in ginger clumps, the look on his face positively lethal. Ben’s mind is spinning with confusion, rapidly trying to process Hux’s words before he can start shouting again. And then it hits him.

_ He doesn’t know. _

“Hux,” Ben says quietly. “Your mother isn’t dead.”

* * *

_ Your mother isn’t dead. _

Later, after the guards come and unlock their doors, long after Ren has left, Hux stands outside his cell’s open doorway in a daze. He wonders if he should just go back inside and lie down before the guards kick him out. He hadn’t planned to the point where he’d actually live past the war. His mind had been brewing with a million frivolous ideas, he’d always been on one side or another, always had someone to stab. The war had been his life, and now that it’s over, Hux found himself… lost.

But then Ren had given him a plan.

_ Your mother isn’t dead. _

Hux doesn’t know how he’s going to do this with his sentence in place, but it’s not going to stop him from trying. He won’t let it.

What Hux doesn’t expect is how his next thoughts gravitate to  _ should I tell Dameron? _

What’s Dameron going to do? Offer to be his pilot? Or maybe even try to stop him?

Hux finds himself walking out of the holding cells and out into the open base. This is such a bad idea, Hux can feel it in his bones already. He should have done what Ren is doing. Grab the nearest transport out of this cursed Resistance atmosphere, stinking of self-righteousness. And to satiate that annoyingly aching part of him that wants to see Dameron, he could always just say —

“Goodbye,” Hux blurts out, right after he rounds a corner and walks face-first into Dameron himself.

Dameron instinctively reaches out, arms gripping Hux’s own. “Whoa, slow down.”

“How did you find me?” Hux asks sharply.

“I heard you got released,” Dameron says brightly, smoothing a hand down the side of Hux’s neck.  _ Stars,  _ why does it have to feel so good? “I was just about to see you!”

The ache in Hux’s chest worsens. And he’s pretty sure it has nothing to do with the blaster impact on Exegol. It hits him then, if he’d wanted to leave without Dameron, he would have done it already. The longer he remains here, in Dameron’s arms, looking in those deep brown eyes, it’s near impossible.

A lump rises in his throat.

Dameron notices immediately.

“Hey,” His brow furrows, and his warm hands slide down to hold Hux’s. “What’s wrong?”

His voice is so painfully gentle that it unlocks something inside Hux, and just like that, the whole story comes unravelling out of him for the very first time. He tells Dameron about Ren’s vision, shows him the dog tags he’d kept hidden for so long, his memories of his mother and Arkanis before its destruction. He can’t keep the guilt out of his voice if he tries, so he lets it break and break, and he has to stop to take deep, shuddering breaths at multiple points.

Dameron is silent the whole time, rubbing soothing circles into the backs of his palms until Hux is done.

"So the person you wanted to go back for, all this time," Dameron says slowly. "She was your mother?"

Hux frowns. It’s not the question he’d expected. "Who else could she be?"

"Ah, no one, I don't know." But Hux doesn't miss the way he exhales what seems like a sigh of… relief? Then he looks up at Hux, completely serious, and asks, “So are we going to look for her?”

Hux glares at him, even though his insides are twisting pleasantly at  _ we. _ Does he really think it’s that simple?

“You idiot,” Hux shakes his head. “I’ve been exiled from the Core Worlds and every planet the Resistance has ever built a base on. If they catch me, they’ll decapitate me and have my organs for breakfast.”

Poe shrugs. “Then we won’t get caught.”

He says it like it  _ is  _ that simple. Like he's made up his mind. Like any Commander of the Resistance would break the rules for a war criminal.

Hux can’t stand it anymore. He grabs Poe by the collar and kisses him hard.

His stupid, selfless pilot. Doing things no one’s ever done for him before, without him even asking. Knowing him so thoroughly. Hux buries his fingers deep in Poe’s hair, tugging at it until Poe slides his hand languidly up Hux’s chest with a muffled whimper.

“We leave in an hour,” Hux murmurs against his lips. “You better say your goodbyes, before I steal you away forever.”

_ This, _ he thinks,  _ this must be what it feels like to be happy. _

Poe smiles, trailing a finger delicately down the side of Hux’s jaw. There’s something so affectionate glimmering in his eyes, something that had blossomed after everything they’d been through, in every message they’d exchanged as  **_TR_ ** and  **_M-FALC_ ** , something powerful and unspoken that Hux can almost hear it, even when the three words he says are different.

“You already have.”

* * *

Rey had told him to meet her in the hangar bay. Which part of the hangar bay poses a bigger question right now, as Ben wanders aimlessly (with a degree of caution, in case he gets himself into any more unfavourable encounters with Resistance folk) between ships docked in haphazard rows. She hadn’t told him which ship they’d be leaving in, but his best guess is one that’s half decent and just enough to get them to the next planet. He wouldn’t expect anything more. The Resistance had already been kind enough to harbour him and not murder him in his sleep.

(Although Ben is convinced that’s all got to do with Leia and her wrath.)

He rounds a corner, and then does a double take.

The Falcon rests in the clearing before him in all her rusty, nostalgic glory, ramp wide open, almost welcoming him. He can almost see his younger self again, ambling through her corridors, into the cockpit and his father’s lap...

Ben blinks himself out of it and forces himself to turn away. He has no right… has he?

He sighs, and takes a step back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” A voice, on the brink of exasperation, resounds from behind him.

Ben finds himself looking straight at Lando, watching him with an eyebrow raised as he leans against a pillar. Chewie emerges from behind it and warbles his agreement.

For a minute, Ben doesn’t know what to say. (He never thought he’d have to say his own goodbyes.)

“I didn’t think you were still hanging around.”

Lando scoffs and walks out toward him. “Have a lil faith, will ya? Chewie and I volunteered to help the ex-bucketheads find their family. Turns out they needed a pilot.”

How typical. Ben can’t help but shoot him a small smile. “You’re a good man, Lando.”

“So are you,” Lando replies, and it takes all of Ben’s might not to flinch. He doesn’t know if it hurts because he disagrees with it or because Lando hadn’t even hesitated about it. Either way, his uncle’s next words catch him completely off guard, “Which is why you’re taking the Falcon.”

“What?” Ben frowns, backing away. “No, I can’t —”

“She’s your ship.” Leia comes sweeping in from the side, her expression stern as she stops in front of him. She casts a long, roaming look at the Falcon over his shoulder, as if breathing the ship in and committing it to memory. “She’s been waiting for you.”

Ben shakes his head, still uncertain. “Mom…”

“It’s what your father would have wanted.” Leia’s brown eyes bore deep into his. “And I know that’s what you wanted too, long before I sent you off to Luke.”

Just like that, all Ben’s further protests die on his tongue. He looks down at his mother, her stubborn glare, then at the Falcon, its thrusters spewing a thin plume of smoke, the sunrise glinting off the viewport of the cockpit like it’s begging to be taken for a spin.

How could he ever deny the Falcon of that? His father never did.

It  _ was  _ what he’d wanted. It still is. To fly like he did on Exegol, to feel freedom right at his fingertips. After all, it’s one of the most familiar homes he’s ever had. One even time couldn’t destroy.

“You’re right,” Ben says. “I’ve missed her.”

“Just don’t blow her bolts out, kid. She’s getting old,” Lando pipes in quickly, and begins going off about which parts are faulty or slow(er than usual).

Leia is shaking her head, but Ben can tell when his mother means to stifle a laugh.

“Hyperdrive can’t go more than ten thousand klicks without using up a third of the fuel reserve. And don’t rely on the cooling system—”

“If I go too fast, I’ll burn up fast. I know,” Ben finishes for him with a smirk. “What am I, three?”

Lando coughs and exchanges a look with Chewie. “At least he remembers.”

Leia steps forward again and tentatively wraps his hands with hers. Ben can feel the warmth of her skin, the longing and  _ love  _ in her Force presence, radiating out towards him. When she speaks again, it’s as if she holds a universe worth of regret on her shoulders.

“I could come with you, you know.”

Her words spark the same memories that Ben is thinking of - every time she’d ever brushed him off as a child, for something as  _ insignificant  _ as a transmission from a fellow Senator or whenever she’d left him in the steely, emotionless hands of a caretaker droid.

For a heartstopping, wondrous moment, as Ben catches a glimmer of what might be tears forming in his mother’s eyes, he basks in the fact that she will be a part of the new life he’s about to build. The certainty that she is willing to follow him into the Falcon, and they could be a family, like he’d always wanted.

But in his peripheral vision, he can see the rest of the Resistance bustling by and carrying out their duties, some of them stopping to stare at their interaction. Kylo Ren and the General of the Resistance, having an intimate moment. It pleases him somewhat, that yes, he,  _ Kylo Ren,  _ could steal their precious General away in the blink of an eye.

But if he’s trying to change, he needs to stop being petty.

They have time. He can steal her any time he wants, but right after a war that  _ he  _ had stoked and played a tragic part in?

“These are your people.” Ben sighs, giving Leia’s hands a squeeze.

She leans closer to him, her eyes almost pleading. “And you’re my family.”

Ben nods towards the Resistance. “They need you. I can handle myself.”

“I know you can.”

Then he does the only thing he can think of. He makes a promise. “I'll send you coordinates. Come find me after everything's settled.”

Something tells Ben he won’t be the only one holding himself to it, anyway. Leia looks as if she might argue again, but when she looks down at their joined hands, something in her seems to shift. When she looks back up at him, there’s painful acceptance in her eyes, and Ben can almost hear her make a matching promise.  _ I won’t be long. I’ve been away from you for long enough. I’ve always hated watching you leave... _

“Better be somewhere nice,” she grunts instead.

Ben fights the urge to roll his eyes. “Won’t be a desert, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Just as he says it, Rey comes barreling round the corner, with a backpack slung sloppily over her shoulder, her hair free-flowing down her back and her quarterstaff in her hand. She collides into Ben’s side with an  _ oomph  _ and he wraps an arm around her waist to steady her.

He doesn’t miss the way the sunlight seems to illuminate her entire being, casting her skin in a tawny glow and turning her eyes a beautiful shade of olive, and Ben wants to  _ cry.  _ Just seeing her seems to be a test of reality, that she’s here and they’re together and Ben is allowed to have her. That she’d  _ chosen  _ him.

His stomach erupts in butterflies. Again. (Gods, he’ll never get over this.)

Rey looks back and forth from him, to Leia, then to the Falcon, with stars in her eyes.

“We’re taking the Falcon?”

“She’s had her time with us.” Leia inclines her head towards Rey with a coy smile. “She’ll need a certain scavenger’s skills to live on.”

“Oh, Leia…” Rey says, and pulls Leia in for a hearty embrace.

His mother reciprocates, and her eyes meet his from over Rey’s shoulder. Her voice is a whisper, her breath catching in the wisps of Rey’s hair, clearly meant for just the two of them to hear.

“This isn't goodbye.”

This time Rey is the one to reassure her, with what Ben’s throat is too lodged to say.

“No. No, it's not.”

* * *

Soon, they’re in the air, above the clouds, the forests of Ajan Kloss washing over the Resistance base like a blanket of camouflage the further they draw away. They move perfectly to pilot the Falcon together. Even though Ben’s the one at the controls, Rey takes charge of nearly everything else, flipping switches and angling shields like it’s instinct, like she’d been flying this hunk of junk just as long as he has.

Ben has never tasted such freedom. After twenty years, seeing the stars blink into view through the frames of the cockpit viewport does something tremendous and  _ breathless  _ to his gut.

It takes him a while to realise that his breath is coming out in shudders. Rey lays a hand on his knee from the co-pilot’s seat, right as they break the atmosphere.

He turns to look at her, and there’s a shimmer of fond concern in her eyes.

“Are you scared?”

Her question comes out quietly, intimately, so that somehow he knows exactly what she means before she can clarify it through the bond.

_ This chance, this life. It’s all new. Neither of us have done this before. Where do we start? _

Ben sucks in a breath, and searches inside himself, the source and feeling of the way he’s trembling and realises - he’s not trembling.

He’s laughing.

“No,” Ben says. “I’m happy.”

He looks back at her, as he lets the Falcon drift through the first few clicks of space outside of Ajan Kloss, as the planet’s sun and moon flank them and cast dreamy shadows against the inside of the cockpit. They pass over Rey’s face, the shutter of her eyelids and the shape of her lips outlined by the light.

_ It’s all new,  _ he agrees.  _ But we have everything we need. _

Rey’s lips part in a small gasp, and then twists up into a delighted beam. Ben is sorry - the sun outside cannot compare.

“I love you,” he says, without thinking. “I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. And I’ve wanted to say it so many times, but …”

Ben hesitates, and he knows the right words are  _ I was scared then. I was wrong to be, but I was. _

The silence stretches for a little bit longer than he’d intended. For a second, he curses himself for messing this up so quickly. But Rey seems to catch a wind of his thoughts, and even though she humours him, the way her eyes are shining so incandescently tells him she’s just basking in his words.

“You forgot?”

Ben grins, placing a hand on the back of her chair and spinning her around to face him. He leans in. “To be fair, you are  _ very  _ distracting.”

Rey laughs, softly, contentedly. Her hand flies up to trace his dimple. “Say it again, please.”

Ben moves forward, biding his time, because now they have plenty to spare. His fingers cradle the side of her neck.

He kisses her forehead. “I love you.”

He kisses her cheek. “I love you.”

Her nose. “I love you.”

Her jaw. “I love you.”

As if  _ he’d  _ ever get tired of saying it again and again and again. Till the day the suns burn out and beyond.

She whispers back, an everlasting echo against his lips, "I love you, too."  _ The way the moon lights my way home. _

And now, it doesn’t matter where they’re headed to next. Not anymore.

They are already home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so tempted to end the story here. there IS a chance i might actually end it here. there IS a chance i might not post the next chronological chapter for the next few weeks, months, or even years, because even though i have it written out, it's 1. kinda shit and 2. it links directly to the epilogue and who KNOWS when i'll get that done
> 
> but just think of it as the ending to an actual star wars film you're watching in theatres. rey and ben zoom off into the stars and DUN DUN DUNDUNDUNDUND DUNDUDNDUN "directed by shruggyben and rian johnson"
> 
> and then think of the subsequent chronolgical chapters (which take place 5 years later) as a post credit scene that lasts for like another hour
> 
> anyhoo THANKS FOR READING IM SO AMAZED THERE ARE SOME OF YOUS WHO HAVE STUCK WITH ME FOR THIS LONG, PLS LEAVE A COMMENT BC EVEN THOUGH I HAVE NO TIME TO REPLY THESE DAYS IT LITERALLY FUELS ME WITH POSITIVE VIBES
> 
> the next chapter will be the PROLOGUE - NOV 14  
> (yes you heard me, we're going back to the very very beginning of this story and the best part about that is that you can see the progress a certain character has made from start to finish... emotional innit)
> 
> and idk whether i will hit these deadlines, but i will update you by this coming weekend  
> CHAPTER 30 - NOV 21  
> EPILOGUE - DEC 25


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